#there you go. prompt solved.

[spleenthecat]

alright let me take a crack at this

there are a few plot holes that we need to avoid here. and by a few i mean a good amount.

stan’s criminal record. nobody would want to take the identity of someone who still has jail time to serve. so this will have to be an au where a. it takes place before stan turns to crime or b. stan doesn’t commit crime at all. or a secret third option where ford doesn’t even realize how much of a criminal stan is until he’s too far in and has to learn how to run from the cops.

the fingers. nobody in gravity falls ever noticed that ford had 6 fingers, so it was easy for them to just go with a normal guy who had 5. but someone with 5 fingers seeming to randomly grow an extra finger? strange. especially since stan is much more sociable than ford. the guy who’s known for being super talkative and knows everyone in town suddenly locks himself away in his house? also strange.

stanley needs to be out of the picture one way or another. probably not dead?

ford needs a motive. this has two parts two it. a. he needs a reason to leave his old identity behind and b. he needs a reason to take stan’s identity specifically.

so with all of this in mind. i give you this.

stan gets to gravity falls before ford does. thinks “hey this place isn’t on any maps. no cops will find me here!”

settles in. makes a good living off of being a tourist trap.

he uses the bill summoning thing as another attraction. Very Stupid Idea.

bill comes to make a deal with stan. thinks “hey look there’s a guy i can con.”

stan gets approached by bill for a deal. thinks “hey look there’s a guy i can con.”

stan goes missing

ford arrives to gravity falls.

ford does not have grant money. people don’t believe in his weirdness theory because they think he’s just talking about the tourist trap that used to be there for a while.

finds an old abandoned shack.

investigates old abandoned shack.

“hey wait a minute. not only are there scraps of proof for my theory, but these are stan’s belongings!”

ford thinks. nobody takes him seriously. people don’t seem to take stan’s disappearance seriously either.

“hey! what if i took on his identity, reopened the tourist trap, and used this footing for money and such while i look for stan?”

and thus. ford takes stan’s identity, runs the tourist trap and tries to look for his brother.

the excuse for the fingers is that he had a run in with some kind of magical creature. it gifted him with extra dexterity in the form of extra fingers. everyone loves it.

ford learns to run from the cops. something he never thought he would have to do.

You know what? We have Stanley pretending to be Stanford for a long ass time

Now give me an AU where Stanford pretends to be Stanley. I don't know man, like he wasn't anyone you could even pretend to be. Stanley is a nobody. Basically.

So this AU would be where he is someone somewhere and Stanford has to pretend to be him. Why? I don't know, figure it out.

[anonymous-existences]

Random DCxDP Prompt/Thought #2

Jason Finds a Notebook in Danny's drawer, Big Capital letters on its cover written as 'Labels', He raises an eyebrow as he inspects and opens the notebook. "What's this about??" He asked, Turning his head to Danny before reading the text. "Oh that's my nicknames for people cuz I tend to forget names a lot." Danny shrugged nonchalantly as Jason flipped through the pages.

He stared dead silent for a moment at his name and it's 'labels', blinking in disbelief. "WHY DO YOU HAVE ME AS 'ANGER ISSUES', 'FUNNIER THAN JOKER', AND 'HE WHO PROBABLY HAS A FURSONA'?!" Jason read the other labels in disbelief.

His gaze landing on Bruce's 'labels', barking out a laugh as he read the first one out loud. " YOU HAVE B AS 'AUTISM SPECTRUM'?!" He yelled out with a wide amused grin, Danny laughing softly, "I mean... Just look at him..." Danny shrugged making Jason laugh out even more.

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc idea 62

Danny has been reaching out to the league for help.

He thought he had it handled but then got sucked into a different dimension, had his town almost fed to plants, the town had a sleepy time nap, and for crying out loud vortex literally messed with the weather all around the globe.

Out of everything he thought vortex would of made them realize he was serious.

being sick of it he starts researching. If they won’t help them by choice and keep ignoring him he is gonna force the matter.

Too bad he can’t figure out who any of the hero’s are. But he does find a newspaper that might take an interest in his information. Especially with the anti ecto acts being brought into the conversation.

Is showing up at a random reporters apartment without being announced that smart. No. But he is desperate.

Clark did not expect to have a random white haired teen show up at his building.

Now he has answers about the mysterious attacks and questions of why weren’t they alerted.

[pyrepostings]

whumpee who's only given soft water to drink/bathe with.

[shinybulbasaur]

idk, it really sucks to see lectures on how "anyone can do art if they practice" from people who gleefully say that they hate math/science and that they refuse to go near it. like I'm not saying that everyone has to be good at math, but like, as someone who does both it's really weird and uncomfortable seeing the difference in how people talk about these things. "do it bad" should apply to science fairs just as much as it does to painting

[sailorsally]

Unpopular opinion but if you don't enjoy the process you should find a different thing to do.

And I think this is true in general but now I'm talking about it in the context of AI.

If you don't enjoy making art and only care about the end piece and how it'll look and how much traction it"lol get online then making art is not something for you, find something you enjoy from start to finish.

Same goes for writing: if you do not enjoy writing and rewriting and then some more and instead want AI to write for you, being a writer is not something you should pursue.

Sure, not every part of creative process is going to be equally enjoyable but you should get satisfaction from solving the problems along the way and you should get a sense of accomplishment on your way of "making the piece yours" and you should have a sense of ownership once you are done.

None of these things will come from typing in a prompt into chatGPT. And I am sad to see so many people are missing on the opportunity to experience the joy of making something with their own hands and brains.

Just give it a try and if you don't like it don't do it again.

But also don't let the expectations of it coming out perfect ruin the fun you are having while making the thing. Because what if I told you this: having fun while creating is the actual purpose of the creative process, not whatever comes out of it.

[pleaseshootthejester]

Writing a resume when I have to will to live is such a bad idea lmao

[katsukimybf]

bc all i think abt is college!katsuki

Katsuki Bakugou is the epitome of the type of friend where you don’t actually know if you are friends.

It started off slow and gradual; a head nod when you sat next to him in class for the first time. You didn’t think much of it at first—just Bakugou being Bakugou, cold and distant as can be. But then came the day the professor prompted the class to discuss the reading with the person next to you. Oh boy.

Distant caves would be jealous of him as he offered impressive silence. He sat there with his arms crossed, glaring at the textbook like it had personally offended him. You tried your best to speak about the text, feeling the weight of his weightless replies, and occasionally he’d grunt or nod, but the conversation resembled your middle school talent show performance. Awkward, yes, but not surprising for a college class.

Still, you found yourself sitting next to him every couple of days, the unspoken rules of college and assigned seating habits pulling you back into his orbit. You tried to be kind, offering small talk here and there, but Bakugou always brushed you off with a grunt or a glare. He was prickly, always on edge, and you figured that was just how he was.

You were like this too on most days. After having your fair share of college-creep experiences you laid off the whole talking to people bit. But there was this exception you made for Bakugou. Not an exception but a curiosity of some sorts. Hell, you also were never good at math but you were on edge to solve the missing variable that is Katsuki Bakugou. Seriously, what's his deal?

Maybe it was the way he didn’t care of how he seemed, it could be the mystery or maybe it was just the fact he looked like he was carved by Lysippos sitting by you at 9 a.m. lecture. Those thoughts were in the back of your mind… you even wonder if Bakugo is good at math? maybe then he could help.

But then there were these odd moments, moments where his usual gruffness gave way to something else. Like the day you mentioned how thirsty you were, sitting there in that old, sweltering classroom with no air conditioning. Bakugou rolled his eyes, muttered something about “are you always unprepared?” (he lent you a pen once before) but then wordlessly reached into his bag and handed you a water bottle.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to match his nonchalant demeanor. Trying to let it go.

But the gesture stuck with you. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t say anything more. He just went back to his notebook like nothing happened. Typical. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of slight butterflies in your stomach, even if you tried to brush them off as nothing.

Things continued in much the same way. Bakugou, still gruff and abrasive, but every now and then, something would slip through the cracks. A quiet moment of consideration, a begrudging act of kindness. He never let you get too close, but there was always that flicker of kindness. Of Bakugou. The real him, you think.

It was a rainy afternoon when you found yourself stranded at a bus stop with him. The two of you had just finished class, and the rain came out of nowhere, pouring down in quick splatters. You both stood under the narrow shelter that barely helped. Bakugou was glaring up like he was challenging the sky to a duel while his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He didn’t acknowledge you at first. And you didn’t think he would.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standing out here,” he grumbled suddenly, his voice low and annoyed.

Before you could reply, he was already shrugging off his jacket and, without looking at you, shoved it in front of you. He urged you to take it but you blinked in surprise, not knowing how to react.

But then, you felt the weight of the jacket warm and heavy on your skin. The scent of him—something sharp and clean—lingered in the fabric.

“Bakugou, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up. I don’t need your thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your gaze. He chose to stare at the rain instead.

“Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes but from that moment, something shifted. The dynamic between you two wasn’t any less tense, and he still barked at you when you got on his nerves, but the hostility had softened, just a little. There was still sharpness in his words, but now mixed in with these brief, unexpected moments of kindness? (for Bakugou, normal for everyone else)

The day before your big exam, you sat next to him in class, anxiety buzzing in your stomach. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” you asked, peeking over at him.

“Yeah,” he grunted, eyes not leaving his textbook.

You turned back to your seat, mentally patting yourself on the back for initiating (yet another) pointless conversation. But then, after a pause, Bakugou spoke again.

“Wanna review the material after class?”

You blinked, a little caught off guard, but quickly nodded. “Sure.”

And so after class, he led the way to the library, not even waiting for you to catch up. He moved with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the room for a quiet, secluded spot. When he finally sat down and pulled out his notes, you were surprised to see how meticulously organized everything was—color-coded, labeled, every detail in its place. So he probably is good at math? You were definitely getting somewhere.

He started drilling you with questions, breaking down complicated concepts with a precision you hadn’t expected. His intensity was relentless, but it pushed you to focus, to work harder, and slowly, your understanding of the material started to click into place.

Hours passed in a blur, and the sun began to set outside the windows. The two of you were still going over definitions when Bakugou glanced over at you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile on your lips. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Good,” he muttered, turning back to his notes, but something about the way he said it felt less harsh than usual.

But all this time of him testing you made you want to test him. Probably because you suspected how sexy he’d look getting every question right…

You smirked, feeling a little bold. “Aw, not you caring if I understand the material.”

He shot you a glare and his face twitched like he was holding back a grin. “I don’t,” he snapped, though his tone lacked the usual bite.

“You just looked so damn scared earlier, it was pathetic.”

You faked a small gasp at that. He wanted to laugh.

“Aww, are you worried about me being sad?” you teased, leaning in a little closer. “It’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his face turning slightly red.

That’s not a no, you think. You laughed, the sound light in the quiet library, and for the first time, you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, barely there, but real.

Quaint and underneath all his surroundings lied Bakugou Katsuki. Almost as if he were labeled X in some math problem.

So yeah… he’s cold and mean and gruff, but… you know he has your back with exams… and when you’re cold, and when you say you're thirsty, and when you need something nice to look at. Definitely, Katsuki Bakugou is your friend…

That happens to have a massive crush on you.

(… and unashamedly, so do you.)

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

you're still a virgin?

IN WHICH heeseung realizes you're still a virgin after swearing you'd get with someone from the start of the year, so he offers to help solve this problem

PAIRING ⟡ bsf!heeseung x virgin!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ non-idol au

WARNINGS ⟡ mdni, smut, porn with a smidge of plot for context, not proofread cuz who needs that, fingering, orgasm denial (briefly), missionary, very vanilla sex, heeseung's kinda awkward #pathetic_men

WORD COUNT ⨯ 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . first smut fic on this acc... minors avert your eyes

“We never finished sharing our new year’s resolutions.”

You stop mid-bite into your pancakes. You and Heeseung had spent all morning making them, finally testing out the new oven you got after the last one broke down during another pancake morning. It survived, luckily. There’s only the taste-test left, but Heeseung’s comment catches you so off guard, you put the fork back down.

“New year’s resolutions?” you repeat. “You mean the ones from basically last year?”

He nods, shoving his first bite in. He hums at the taste. Success. “Yeah, we made those lists and started sharing but then—” Heeseung tilts and quirks his brow in thought. “—I can’t even remember. We probably got distracted, but either way, we never made sure we both completed our lists.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you keep your eyes on the plate. “I don’t even know if I still have mine—”

“I do,” Heeseung interrupts. “We put them in that box, remember? I found it this morning, that’s why I thought to bring them up, ha.”

“You didn’t, er, read them, did you?”

Heeseung shakes his head, chewing through another bite. “I thought it’d be fun to go through them and see what we’ve done or not.” He lightly taps his fork around his plate. “We’ve got a few days before the new year starts, no plans, I don’t know…”

“No, no, yeah, I get it,” you assure, nodding quickly. “I just, um, they were stupid. I was stupid. This year changed me, you know?”

Your roommate looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh yeah?” He watches you nod again. “All the more reason to get them.” And before you know it, he’s rushing to his room to, you assume, get the box he’d mentioned earlier.

It’s not long before he’s practically skipping back into the kitchen-dining area bringing the box. Tossing his plate aside, he sets the box in between you two and sits back down. You’re anxious at how he unfolds the lid and pulls out two sheets of crumpled paper.

“Yours was the one with the rip at the top,” you say, reading the questions in his mind. Your face flushes as you realize that’ll only prompt him to take it out the other first.

He smiles at you before hiding his face behind the paper. He begins to read it out loud. “Resolution one: Learn how to make (good) pancakes—” Grabbing his fork, he clinks it twice against the porcelain. “Check. Number two: Make weekly savings—Check, right?”

You hum, your leg shaking beneath the table.

“Alright, and then—” He lowers the paper. Your eyes widen. “Lose my virginity?”

“Okay!” you say overenthusiastically. “See! I was being stupid, such a dumb thing to write on a new year’s resolution list, right? Haha, so funny, let’s just throw these out—”

“Wait, but we can cross this off, though, right? You had that boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” you clarify. “He was… gross. I never really liked him like that, so it just never happened. It’s whatever, I’m a virgin, okay, let’s move on. Isn’t the next thing I put down like eat more salads—”

“You’re still a virgin?”

You look at him bewildered. What was up with the intonation? Was it really shocking? Why does he even care? You suppose he’s always been the nosy type, just never assumed it would translate to this, as well.

He seems to realize the second meaning to his words and fumbles to take them back. “Okay, not like—I didn't mean it in a weird way, I’m just surprised that you’re... you know?”

“It’s… whatever,” you clarify. “It’s fine. It’ll happen at the right moment, right? That’s what they all say.” You'd shovel another bite into your mouth and you can’t help but taste the bitterness from your words with the sweetness of the syrup. “I’ll get over it when it’s done and gone.”

Heeseung clears his throat, paper discarded to the side, his eyes fixed on your plate in deep thought. “Do you…”

You raise a brow.

“Do you want my help?”

In your defense, you really hate being a virgin. Not that it’s embarrassing or shameful to be one, but the fact that you swore to yourself that you wouldn't be a virgin anymore since last year makes you want to crumble up inside.

You just don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your past self. Imagine her laughing at you? That’s a new low.

Which leads to this moment right now. Laying in Heeseung’s bed, in Heeseung’s room, waiting for Heeseung to come back into said room with the “supplies” he was rushing out to get.

The door slowly swings open as Heeseung pushes it with his back, his hands full. He makes eye contact with you and a pout makes its way across his lips. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes snap open wider. “Yes?!”

“We’re gonna have sex, Y/N, your clothes aren’t supposed to be on.” He smiles at you as he sets down lube and condoms.

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize he’s just teasing. Heeseung’s a gentleman, but it’s not like you've gotten the chance to know the side of him you two swore to never let you meet. He could’ve been a weirdo creep for all you knew, as long as he was paying his half of the rent it never mattered until right now.

“Do you want me to turn around when you take them off?” Yep, just the same old awkwardly sweet Heeseung you’ve always known.

You smile, albeit nervously. “You’ll see me naked anyway, might as well put on a strip performance to get you in the mood.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then points to the lights. “We could turn those off if you want.”

For a moment, you consider it. If not for the hopes of Heeseung seeing the least possible,  but for the ambiance. Do people leave the lights on or off during sex? Not like you know. Ultimately, you shake your head, getting off from the bed and sticking your hands under the hem of your shirt. “Ready?” you ask him, though the question is more internalized.

His hum is muffled by his hands reaching at the collar of his shirt.

At once, you two pull your shirts off together.

Standing bare chest to bare chest - with bra - you eye him carefully. “You take your shirt off from the top?”

“What?”

You mirrored his previous action. “You took your collar and pulled your head through the neck hole first—” your words muffle as you reenact it sloppily. “Normal people take their arms out first.”

Heeseung stifles a laugh behind his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me?”

“Is this not sexy?”

“Oh, please, go on, you’re making me hard.”

The two of you laugh and you realize you’re not so nervous anymore. The anxious jitters left your hands and you can feel your muscles relaxing. It’s just Heeseung. Just Heeseung.

As he recovers from a fit of laughter, you look at him in a way you haven’t taken the chance to ever since you met almost two years ago. His arms that flex when he wraps them around himself. His smile which switches to a sly smirk when he’s resisting the urge to laugh louder. His hair that falls neatly into place, over his eyes that glint to the point you can’t take your gaze away from them.

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He’s attractive. Yeah, that’s been obvious.

Your type? Maybe…

But this is different. And, oh god, he’s going to have sex with you.

Heeseung clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Pants?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are brimmed with concern, probably sensing your confused thoughts, clearly not understanding what you’re telling yourself.

You respond by tugging at your sweatpant laces, letting them drop down dramatically. Heeseung keeps his eyes glued to your movement, eyes widening at the sight of your bare legs and white panties. He quickly reaches for his belt.

To your surprise, you can see that he’s, at the very least, getting hard. Maybe it’s nerves. You try not to think too much about the possible influence the sight of your almost-bare body has on him.

Still, to test the waters and ease or completely disrupt your mind, you ask, “Can you help me with my bra?”

He fumbles an answer, you’re pretty sure you hear a ‘yes’ through his blabs, as he kicks out of his pants fully and stumbles to your side of the bed. You turn your back to him, giving him the cue by raising your hair away from the clasp.

Shivers run down your spine at his gentle, warm touch on your skin. You never knew you were sensitive, but with every simple movement, every brush against your back has you feeling goosebumps running up your arms.

Heeseung’s breath is hollow behind you.

When the clasp is finally undone, you pull your arms out of the straps, letting the material drop to the floor with your other discarded clothes.

You turn to face Heeseung, his eyes saying more than any words could mean. Stunned, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper in return, eyes drifting down to his mouth.

He doesn't hesitate to lean in. His arms naturally slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his lips hungrily crash into yours. You gasp through the initial shock of ferocity, relaxing into his hold with your hands coming up to the nape of his neck.

His fingers squeeze your skin pulling a sound from your mouth, muffled by his lips. You don’t even notice the way his knees push you back until you’re laying on the bed, lips still attached to Heeseung’s, but even those pull away eventually. You almost get up onto your elbows to chase after his touch, but stop yourself at the sight of his intense gaze.

Your gazes lock with each other for a moment, before he finally breaks contact to rush to the bedside cabinet where the lube bottle sits. He pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing the gel slowly. He eyes the way it reflects the light and this one reaction makes you think he’s never seen it before, but you doubt it — you’ve heard his sexual escapades thanks to your graciously thin walls.

“I’m going to finger you first,” Heeseung interrupts your thoughts.

You simply hum in return, letting your legs fall apart for him to get back into place, between them.

Heeseung has one hand on your thigh, the other levitates over your skin with nearly-dripping lube, but his eyes are on yours, waiting for another nod before he can continue.

Giving him the signal, you aren’t prepared for the chill that runs down your spine at the cold sensation of the lube on your sensitive skin. Soon enough, though, your gasps turn to gentle hums as Heeseung draws little circles on your bare pussy.

“This okay?”

You nod needily.

One finger finally intrudes, swimming through your walls and curls to find that certain spot. Your hips roll into it—you never thought it'd be this different from your own fingers.

“More,” you whimper.

“Already?” Heeseung teases, but you can hear partial genuinity in his tone.

Wordlessly, your hand reaches down to his, pulling at it to get another finger inside of you.

Heeseung chuckles in disbelief, but doesn't disobey your request.

Two fingers in and you’re letting soft gasps escape your lips, eyes already threatening to roll back at the rhythmic pattern Heeseung’s keeping up. He pushes in, pulls out, pushes back in and curls into you. You match his pace with your hips, hoping to deepen his touch. He’s so close, so close to where you need him.

Meanwhile, his thumb rolls gently over your clit to ease the tension of the stretch. It helps, making your head spin and forcing you to focus entirely on the pleasure you feel, rather than the pain.

Heeseung doesn't warn you when he slips in a third, but you’re busy throwing your head back, moaning to tell him off for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling. “‘Is so good.”

Your back arches as Heeseung’s fingers reach your G-spot, curling and tickling the bundle of nerves, ripping out more muffled moans, your hand thrown to your mouth not to disturb the neighbours.

“Right there!” you moan. “Right—shit, yes—Right there!” When he keeps at it, you can't hold on much longer. “Fuck, I’m so close—”

And then it’s gone.

All the pleasure is ripped away from you as Heeseung pulls out of you coldly, barely looking your way as he turns to the bedside cabinet.

“Hey,” you whine, albeit childishly.

It’s as if something clicks and he turns back to you. “Sorry,” he singsongs out. “I didn’t want you to come so soon, I still have to actually fuck you, right?”

You pout, but ultimately he’s right. That’s what you're here for. “Fine.”

He fumbles with the condom packet, eventually giving up on going at it with his lubed-fingers and rips the package with his teeth.

“I could’ve helped,” you tell him, smiling teasingly.

“I got it. I got it.” He waves his hand at you before he uses that same hand to roll down the condom and—Holy. Shit. He’s packing.

You never took the time to think about his size, though you probably would've determined it was a decent size from the outline of it when he's chilling on the couch with sweats on.

But now that it's out, hard and flush against his toned abs? You take a deep breath and try not to think too much about how it must taste, how it’d feel to have him down your throat—as if you even know how to give a proper blowjob. Maybe he could guide you, holding your head from the back and pushing it back and forth rhythmically up and down his cock and—

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re sure about this?”

He’s pumping his cock as he asks. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m ready.” And there’s no lie in your words.

Heeseung crawls back onto the bed once more, staying on his knees when his body is lined up with yours. He nods to himself and you before lining up his dick with your entrance, one hand falling to the side of your head, the other resting on your lower stomach as he pushes in slowly.

The intrusion is unfamiliar. The stretch hurts more than expected. Yet, your mouth is agape in frozen pleasure — Heeseung let his hand fall lower and is now drawing circles on your clit to ease the tension.

He keeps his thumb on your pussy while slowing his movement to a stop. “Tell me when I can move.”

Instead of relaxing into the stretch, preparing yourself for more friction, you focus entirely on Heeseung’s movements on your clit. Rolling the bud of pleasure between his two fingers, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

You test the waters by flexing your core muscles, squeezing your walls against Heeseung’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips forward at once, but he quickly stops himself. Heeseung looks up at you with cutely worried wide eyes. “Shit, sorry—Are you okay?”

You giggle. “Go!” you say between laughs, rolling your hips down to get him going.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly resumes his previous thrust, your legs are naturally pushed apart to give him more access—moans spill from your lips at the newfound depth he reaches.

Heeseung’s head dips, his hair falling over his face, but does nothing to hide his expressions. You watch him for a moment, reveling in how good your pussy is making him feel. You clench around him again and his mouth falls open. He lets out the most harmonious sound you never expected from him but want to hear again and again.

So, you roll your hips into his, until your lower stomachs are threatening to brush against each other, until Heeseung lowers from his hands to elbows, and your bodies are flushed against each other. Your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can’t be bothered. Not with his rhythmic thrusts reaching so deep inside of you. Not with his fingers still playing with your clit, torturing the bud with nonstop pleasure. Not with his lips so close to your mouth, and your head pulling itself upward to capture them in another kiss.

Your hands snake to the back of his head, curling into his messy hair and pulling gently to bring him closer to you. His free hand finds its way into your hair, too, pushing the flyaways back into the rest of the mess, away from your face, before it rests gently on your neck, guiding you in the kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into your mouth as your walls clench around him again.

Your head spins at his low tone, pleasure bubbling in your stomach in a way it never has before. “I’m—Shit—I’m so close!”

Heeseung takes this as a signal to speed up his fingers on your clit, and slows down his thrusts, deepening them with each push in.

“Come on, come for me.”

And you do.

So much, like never before.

Your back arches into him, head thrown back, letting out a sinful string of moans. You’d curse from the pleasure, but your thoughts aren't coherent enough to form words.

You’re frozen in place, legs shaking as Heeseung pulls out to finish himself off. He jerks off into the condom on top of your wasted body, coming undone as soon as your dazed eyes meet his hungry gaze.

He doubles over, landing on his hand, face mere inches away from yours. “Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” you repeat, a giggle in your tone.

“Congratulations,” he says, rolling onto his back to be laying beside you. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

Your weak arms raise in a small celebration. “Yay.”

“How was it?”

You can’t even respond, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. You can almost feel Heeseung’s smirk behind them.

“I’ll take that as good.” Then, after a beat. “Does that mean you'd want to do it again?”

Your hands fall flat to your sides in one quick movement. “What?”

“There’s so much more I can teach you.”

“No,” you say while shaking your head. He looks defeated, you almost want to reach up and pet him like a dog. “Not until you buy me dinner.”

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE *  inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt

[ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder

[ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together

[ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair

[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it

[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind

[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing

[ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing

[ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces

[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off

[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair

[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders

[ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle

[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen

[ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them

[ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together

[ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste

[ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too

[ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them

[ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them

[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls

[ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver

[ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking

[ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders

[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about

[ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different

[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house

[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing

[ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it

[ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar

[ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game

[ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle

[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in

[ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face

[ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver

[ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair

[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds

[smileysuh]

deal maker

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, pussy eating, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, dry humping, foreplay, slight corruption kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) sweetheart. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.7k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, Halloween, supernatural/demon au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  Happy Halloween!

One: her

If it weren’t for the fact that you’re in the middle of a library, you might just scream. You know your workload increases with each year you’re in university, but there’s something sinister about the amount of book-related essays you have right before Halloween.

You’re doing your best to focus, and you’ve read the entirety of the ‘Frankenstein’ book that you’re supposed to be analyzing, but you just can’t find words.

A massive sigh escapes you, and your best friend, Hwasa, casts you a sideways glance. “You good, babes?” she asks.

“I just- I can’t do this,” you groan. “It’s a completely open ended prompt- I could write about anything I want to, and all things considered, five thousand words isn’t the longest essay ever- but, damn, I seriously can’t think right now.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you really think you’re at rock bottom on this?”

“I don’t see how I could go any lower.”

“Okay, well,” she scoots her chair closer to you, her voice lowering, “i wouldn’t suggest this otherwise, but uh- have you ever thought about contacting the Sigma Veta Tau demon?”

“The what?” you stare at her blankly.

“Of course you wouldn’t know about him, you’re a goody goody,” Hwasa sighs. “Basically, there’s this guy in the SVT frat who makes deals and does your work for you.”

“What’s this have to do with being a demon?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a weird myth- basically, this guy helped me with an essay last year worth thirty percent of my grade. All he asked for was a family heirloom, and I think it’s his weird choice of price for favours that get him the whole ‘demon’ thing cuz he doesn’t usually ask for money like other dudes who write your papers would.”

“How did you do? On the essay?” you ask.

“Got an A. He doesn’t overdo it, he does enough to get you a good grade but not so good it’s obvious you didn’t do the work.”

“So… is he an actual demon, or?” You cock your head to the side, trying to understand the whole demon relevance.

“Nah, like I said, he’s just some hot nerd who wrote my essay. It wasn’t sketchy at all.”

“And he does this for a lot of people?”

“I’ve heard about a few. I know his friend Dokyeom was close to failing his Kinesiology course and somehow Wonwoo did his final exam for him and helped him pass.”

You let out a small laugh. You’re familiar with the Sigma Veta Tau frat, and DK is a well known figure there- getting someone to help him pass Kinesiology is very characteristic to the loud gym bro. “Wait, but, how did Wonwoo pull it off? They ID you at the final exams, don’t they?”

Hwasa shrugs. “I guess the dude pulls off miracles every once in a blue moon, maybe that’s part of his ‘demonic’ reputation.”

“Are we sure this a good idea?” you ask.

“Making a deal with the Devil?” Hwasa clarifies. “Of course, what could go wrong?”

You laugh at her choice of words. 

This Wonwoo guy definitely isn’t the Devil… and even if he was, what would making a deal with him even really include? 

You’re skeptical to say the least, but looking back at your worn out book, and your laptop document open with zero words- you begin to wonder if maybe this Wonwoo guy is a good way to solve your current predicament. 

Two:

Wonwoo quite enjoys living on campus. He loves the onslaught to his senses every time he’s out and about, mingling with university kids who have way too much on their plate. No one ever notices him, no one ever notices the things that are slightly… off about him, they’re much too busy focusing on this week’s term paper, or this week’s quiz.

No, Wonwoo’s extremely happy being exactly where he is. He’s lounging in a coffee shop that connects to the book store, his eyes darting from person to person, assessing-

That’s when his gaze locks with someone familiar.

Hwasa had come to him last year, needing an essay completed. It had been one of Wonwoo’s easier tasks, as he’s read the source material upwards of twenty times in his long life. He’s seen her around campus a few times since then, but she’s never approached him, not the way she is now.

“Hi, Wonwoo!” Hwasa grins, demenour as bubbly as ever. 

The frat boy simply nods, his gaze turning to assess you as you stand next to your friend.

“This is y/n,” Hwasa introduces you. “She’s actually struggling with an essay right now-”

“Hate to hear about an academic struggle,” Wonwoo interrupts, “especially while enjoying my coffee.” His eyes return to you again. “If you ever need a tutor, you should swing by the frat.”

“I would appreciate that,” you nod, a little breathless.

It’s clear there’s something off about you too- your heard rate is going faster than the average rate, and you’re finding it difficult to meet his gaze. 

Ah, things click in Wonwoo’s head, this particular set of responses isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with. Many girls react this way to him, getting ‘flustered,’ as humans would say.

However, what is unfamiliar, is the way Wonwoo himself is reacting to it. He finds it cute, endearing in a way- as opposed to the annoyed feeling he usually gets when women are easily infatuated with him.

“Here,” Wonwoo breathes smoothly, picking up a pen from his notepad. “Give me your hand.”

Your gaze flickers to Hwasa for a moment, and then you’re reaching forward. Wonwoo grasps your wrist, enjoying the warmth of your skin and the way you jolt from his touch. He quickly writes his phone number down on your inner palm. “Give me a call about tutoring you sometime, we can discuss details then.”

“O-okay,” you nod, immediately taking your hand back when he’s finished, cradling it close to your chest.

“If that’s all you two have to say to me,” Wonwoo breathes, looking between you and Hwasa, “I’d love to get back to my coffee.”

Three:

“Hey, I’m at the frat, where are you?” you ask as you answer your best friend’s call. You feel so awkward just standing here, trying to look like you belong even though you’re sure you stand out in the all boys frat village.

“Babes, I’m so sorry- I’m at this study group and it’s going mega late, I didn’t even realize the time and I’m across campus-”

You let out a sigh. “Are you seriously going to make me do this alone?”

“You’ll be fine!” Hwasa assures you. “Wonwoo won’t bite, it’s the daylight after all.”

She giggles, and you roll your eyes. You’re still not sure how you feel about this whole ‘demon’ thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little afraid to enter a fratboy den of wolves alone.

“You’ve got this,” Hwasa says again. “If you need anything, just text me, and remember, I stalk your snapchat location so if anything happens-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh. “Okay, I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit!” 

You hang up on Hwasa, taking a deep breath and turning to the front door. You approach cautiously, raising your hand and knocking three times.

It takes a couple of moments, but eventually, a man opens the door. You recougnize Jeonghan, he’s the frat president’s right hand man, a business major with a reputation for hitting on every girl he meets.

“Well, look who it is,” Jeonghan grins, leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder while he shovels some cereal into his mouth from the bowl in his hand.

He’s in an oversized white shirt and sweatpants, you’d bet he hasn’t been to classes today- and fuck it, he looks handsome, all the SVT men do.

“Sorry, hi, I’m here for Wonwoo, but I don’t think we’ve actually met,” you say awkwardly, holding out a hand.

Jeonghan’s gaze falls to your extended palm, and he chuckles. “Wonwoo gets all the cute girls,” he says, moving away from the door frame to let you inside, “but none of them ever stick around.”

“I’m here to study,” you try to explain.

“Sure you are,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. You follow him through the entryway living space, pausing as he heads back into the connected kitchen. “Wonwoo’s room is the third floor, first door on the left.” You stand there for a few moments, and Jeonghan cocks his head to the side. “You have no clue where the stairs are, do you?” 

“Nope.”

“That door,” he points with his spoon. “Don’t get lost.”

He’s a bit of an odd one, and with a final thank you, you scurry away, following his directions past a door and up three flights of stairs. You pause outside the first room on the left, swallowing thickly before you knock.

“Come in!” Wonwoo’s voice calls out. 

Before you can push the door open, it opens by itself, and you half expect Wonwoo to be standing there- only to find him seated on his bed with a book in his hands.

He’s in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants. His hood is up, but his dark curls are poking out, toying with the rims of glasses that set of the sharp angles of his face. 

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Uh-” you cough. “Y/N.” The door opening by itself had freaked you out, and you wonder how true the whole demon thing is- God, that’s been on your mind a lot.

“Come in, relax, and tell me what I can do for you,” he instructs, using his foot to push out a chair near his bed. 

You swallow thickly again, closing the door behind you and approaching. You take a seat, letting out a breath. “So basically I have an essay on Frankenstein- have you read it?”

“Of course. Have you?” he counters.

“Yeah, I’ve read it, but uh… anyways, it’s due on Halloween, which is two weeks away, and I have so many other essays to write-”

“What’s the topic?”

“Open ended.”

“How many words?”

“Five thousand.”

“That doesn’t seem very hard,” he muses with a grin, slotting a marker between his pages so he can rest his book on his chest, getting a better look at you.

“Usually it wouldn’t be, but I’m just blanking- I don’t even know where to start.” You release a stressed breath. “So I brought a family heirloom.”

Wonwoo just looks at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“Hwasa said she paid you last time with her grandmothe’rs broach?” you try to explain.

“My price is different for everyone,” Wonwoo tells you, holding out a hand. “Let’s see what you brought.”

“It’s my aunt’s.” You give the necklace to him. “She got it to me to celebrate graduating highschool and getting into university.”

Wonwoo inspects the delicate silver chain, looking at the crescent moon charm with an opal in the middle. “It’s obviously valuable,” he says, handing it back to you, “but I can tell it’s not very sentimental.”

“So…” you fidget with the necklace in your palm, “what do you want?”

Wonwoo’s eyes begin to scan your form, and suddenly you feel very uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s undressing you in his mind, and it makes you fidget in your seat. His gaze lands on your chest, and you fight the urge to cover your tits-

He sits up, reaching forward- You hold your breath as his fingers brush by your collar bones, too close to the swell of your breasts for your liking- and then he’s lifting your necklace, leaning even closer to inspect it.

You can feel his breath on your skin, and he’s so close- God, why is something as simple as this so erotic? You’ve dealt with pretty boys before, but there’s something about a pretty, nerdy, dangerous boy- 

“Where did you get this?” he asks, thumb smoothing across the golden heart attached to the chain on your neck.

It’s hard to find your voice, but after a moment, you’re able to respond. “It was uh- it was from my last boyfriend.”

“An ex?” His gaze lifts to you.

“Yeah.” You can feel your skin heating.

“And you didn’t get rid of it?”

“I figure I bought him a bunch of stuff while we were dating, pretty sure this was only fifty bucks or something, so I guess I thought I deserved to keep it.”

Wonwoo nods. You watch his gaze dip to your lips, just for a moment, and then he’s releasing your necklace and leaning back into his bed again. “That will work.”

“It will?” you ask in shock.

“Uh huh. There’s a certain sort of sentimentality to it. Also… even though you say you kept it because you deserved it, buying him so many things or whatever, I think it’s a shame that a pretty girl like you is still holding onto something from the past, instead of looking at your future. I’ll take it off your hands, and you can progress now, with more than just your essay.”

You wonder what sort of motive Wonwoo has, what significance a necklace from your ex actually has on a man who’s practically a stranger.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching behind your throat to undo the clasp. “So… how does this work now?”

“A five thousand word open ended essay on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein…” Wonwoo takes his glasses off, wiping them with his hoodie. “I guess, you give me some time to think it through, I text you, and you come see me again.”

You watch the way he puts his spectacles back onto his face- it’s shocking how small, simple, mundane motions can be so beautiful when completed by a man like him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I guess… I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“You will,” he agrees. “Bye for now.”

He relaxes against his pillows, lifting his book and immediately turning his attention to it.

You stand up and leave without another word, your heart racing in your chest.

Once you’re outside the frat house, you call Hwasa. 

“So how did it go?” she asks. “He didn’t kill you, so that’s good news!”

“He also didn’t want the family heirloom,” you sigh.

“So what did he want?”

“My necklace, you know, the one from my ex.”

“That’s weird, why would he want that?”

“Hell if I know,” you groan. “Hwasa… he’s not an actual demon, right?”

“Of course not!” she laughs.

You wish you were as certain as she is. There’s definitely something otherworldly about Jeon Wonwoo, and one of these days, you’re going to put your finger on exactly what is different about him from any other man you’ve ever met. 

Four:

Wonwoo is standing by his window, examining the necklace in his hand. It’s such a simple little thing, but there’s so much energy tied to it. Wonwoo can see the dark aura- a tie to a past that it’s clear you’d rather forget.

Usually, Wonwoo collects items with soul ties. Family heirlooms are the easiest, as they’re connected to multiple people in different generations. When one of those people with a soul connection to the item dies, Wonwoo deams if they’re a worthy enough spirit to take as payment for his favours.

In Hwasa’s case, both of her grandparents had died recently. The grandmother had gone first, followed quickly by the grandfather, and it was the older male that Wonwoo had chosen to take for himself. His soul had been dark, a signifier of the evil in his heart when he’d been on earth.

For a demon, Wonwoo actually likes humans. He only accepts contracts that allow him to collect on bad souls, souls that he deems worthy of eternal damnation. 

Many of his kind have asked him why he’d chosen a university to call home, and in simple terms, it’s because at heart, Wonwoo has an erudite flecked soul. He loves learning, more than he’s ever loved being a demon.

He got to a point in his life where he figured, if he was going to be around forever, he might as well learn everything.

Besides all that, university is easy, students come to him, he hardly had to do any work. Students are always anxious, always busy and in need of support to get work done. They hardly think of the heirloom they pawned off to a frat boy in return for an essay or a test- and since Wonwoo waits for natural deaths to collect the souls tied to the items, there’s no harm no fowl.

With all of this being said, Wonwoo’s not used to taking an item like yours. There are only two souls tied to it, your own, and your ex boyfriend’s… Wonwoo knows which one he’ll collect.

He’s not sure why he feels protective of you… there’s just something in your aura that calls to him, something he can’t explain. 

He knows that this job will be different, in more ways than one, but something inside of Wonwoo is ready for the change, after all,  it’s been a very long time coming.

Five:

“You’re back,” Jeonghan muses when he opens the door to the frat for you. “That’s a first.”

“Hi,” you say meekly, forcing a smile. You’re still not sure how you feel about any of this, and knowing that what Wonwoo’s doing with you is unusual doesn’t help ease your anxieties.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Jeonghan sighs, opening the door wider so you can pass. As you move by him, a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “He’s never cooked for anyone, so, just keep that in mind.”

God, these men are so odd-

You find Wonwoo in the kitchen, his back to you. He’s in a black t-shirt and it stretches tight across his broad shoulders. His curls are a little messy, as if he’s been sleeping, and when he turns to you, you find he’s not wearing his glasses.

Why is he just as pretty without glasses as he is with glasses?

This feels unfair. This feels like- well, it shouldn’t be legal, for starters.

“Hey.” Wonwoo flashes you a smile and you just about melt. You can feel your skin heating, and you hate how your body betrays you, betrays the inner lustings that take over every time you look at this nerdy hot frat boy.

“Hi,” you respond, feeling like a complete idiot as you approach Wonwoo.

“You hungry?” He looks down at the pan in front of him. “I’ve been making steak and eggs.”

“Actually, I’m really just here about the essay,” you try to explain.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo focuses on the sunny side up egg he’s making, “Give me one sec.”

You watch him finish up his meal. You’re not used to watching a man cook, and you're surprised at how skilled he is. There’s something very attractive about the way he shovels the egg out of the pan, adding it to his plate with the finished steak. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Wonwoo leads you back up to his room. He takes a seat at his work table. “You can go on the bed,” he suggests, cutting open an egg. You watch the orange yolk drip, the way he scoops some up with steak.

He’s way too attractive. 

“You sure you don’t want any?” he asks. “It’s perfectly medium rare.”

“A little too rare for me,” you admit, immediately realizing your mistake. “It looks amazing, sorry, I’m just not hungry.” 

“Sounds good. So let's talk your essay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve decided I’m not going to write it for you.”

“What?” It feels like the air is knocked out of your chest, and you stare at Wonwoo in confusion. “But uh… you took my necklace, and you wrote Hwasa’s essay-”

“It’s busy season.” Wonwoo waves his fork around absentmindedly. “The deal is, you come here, we work together, and when you need help, I’ll help. When you need a final edit, I’ll final edit.”

“Uh…” Your mind is spinning. “If you’re not going to help, I can really just do it myself.”

“I think we both know my help will be important,” Wonwoo points out. “Look, you’re a good girl. Don’t you want to feel like you did it yourself? When you came here the first time, I noticed you were hesitant, I don’t think this is something you’re used to doing.”

“I’m not,” you admit, shocked at his ability to read you. 

“With a five thousand word count, this will only take two or three hard study sessions top, in fact, since I have my steak and eggs, we can start now.”

“I didn’t even bring my book-”

“I’ve got a copy right here.” Wonwoo spins his chair, reaching for his bookshelf. He pulls out a worn version of Frankenstein, handing it to you. “I’ve got notes in here, if you want to flip through it, I’m sure you’ll find something to inspire your essay.”

You take a deep breath.

Should you do this? Should you sit here and study with him? What was the point of giving him your necklace if he’s not going to write it for you?

“You’ll keep me on track?” you ask.

Wonwoo offers you a lopsided grin. “Uh huh.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Six:

It’s your second session with Wonwoo. You’ve been carrying his version of Frankenstein around like a bible- the notes, carefully hand written into the margins, are so insightful and inspiring. At this point, you’ve reread the whole book just to get a chance to understand Wonwoo’s musings on every page.

You feel alight with determination, and your thoughts feel focused- you’re as focused with Wonwoo as you’ve ever been, which feels odd given how distracting he is.

It’s intimate in a way, to be so close to him, doing your own work while sharing a space-

Your phone buzzes, breaking your concentration.

Wonwoo looks up at you, pausing his reading. “Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

You let out a small laugh. “Just Hwasa checking in on me to make sure I’m okay with our tutoring session, you’ve got a reputation you know.”

“Do I?” Wonwoo grins, resting his book on his abdomen. 

“Uh huh, people say you’re a demon or something. Apparently coming here for help with school is a deal with the devil.” 

Wonwoo laughs. “That’s definitely a theory. What do you think?”

“At the moment, I’m not quite sure,” you admit. “All I know is, you’re helping me with this essay, and that’s what matters.”

“You know how you can check if I’m a demon?” Wonwoo asks.

“How?”

“Come touch my head, see if there are any horns.” 

Wonwoo is giving you a challenging look, and for some reason, you can’t resist.

You put your laptop to the side, sitting up. “Really?”

“Like I said, only one way to find out if I’m a demon.”

You move toward him, standing off the bed to approach where he’s seated at his desk. “Honestly… maybe this isn’t the best idea. I trust you, I don’t have to feel your head for horns.”

“I really wish you would though,” Wonwoo counters, and there’s a serious edge to his tone. His eyes are bright, looking up at you. It’s like you’re suspended in time and space, staring at each other, holding your breaths.

You reach toward his head, in the back of your mind, you’re worried he might bite you- but Wonwoo stays perfectly still. He watches your every movement, and soon, your fingers are smoothing through his curls.

Wonwoo holds back a groan at the feeling of your touch. He wants to lean in toward you, but doesn’t want to scare you off. It’s clear to him from your body language that you’re as hesitant about this as you had been when you’d first come to him for help with your essay.

You’re so soft, so pure, and he loves it.

He can hear your heart beginning to thunder in your chest as you smooth around his head, searching for horns.

God, humans are so gullible, but it’s adorable when it’s you being this way.

“Okay, no horns,” you confirm, tearing your hand back like you’ve just been burned.

You turn away, returning to his bed, and Wonwoo can practically feel the heat coming off of you. 

“Get back to work,” he says softly, loving the way he gets to sneak looks at you while you’re deep in thought. 

This arrangement is too perfect- Wonwoo hates that it will soon be coming to an end. You’ve been very productive, and as much as he’d like to take credit for it, it’s your own doing.

In some odd way, he’s proud of you, and it’s a feeling he’s never quite experienced before. 

Seven:

You can’t believe it’s your final session with your ‘tutor’. The amount you’ve gotten done in two separate days with Wonwoo is ridiculous- 

He’s your lucky charm, and it’s odd how much someone can come to mean to you in such a short time.

“Okay,” you sigh, finishing your last line of work. “I’m done.”

“Time for edits then,” Wonwoo responds, slotting a bookmark into what he’s reading before descarding the novel on his sidetable. He approaches you, sitting onto the bed. He’s so close that you can feel his shoulder against yours. He’s so warm, in the best of ways.

He’s reading over your shoulder, and you can feel his breath on your skin. God, this closeness is doing something to you- your pussy is actually beginning to throb, and it’s becoming uncomfortable. 

“Here.” You hand your laptop over to him, watching anxiously as he begins to read your essay from the top.

You’re so focused on him- each second feels like an eternity as he makes his way through your writing, discussing small edits with you as he goes through it. 

“This is good,” Wonwoo muses, making it all the way to the end. “You did really well, and with two days to spare. I’m proud of you.”

“Guess I don’t have to be stressed for Halloween,” you grin, releasing a deep breath.

“Speaking of, do you have any plans?”

“I haven’t even thought that far ahead,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, if nothing else, we throw a great frat party, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“You know what?” You stretch your arms above your head, releasing a deep breath. “I might just stop by.” 

Eight:

Wonwoo’s walking through campus when he senses something- and that something can only ever be you. He’s become accustomed to your aura, and his gaze immediately finds you, heading across the green with a friend by your side.

Your eyes meet, and Wonwoo flashes you a smile, not expecting anything to come of it.

He’s surprised when you approach, calling his name. “Wonwoo! Oh my gosh, hi!”

“Hey,” he grins, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. He wishes he could be more subtle about his attraction to you, but by the way you take him in, it’s clear that it’s not something that’s one sided. 

“Yeji, this is the tutor I was telling you about! He helped me finish my essay in three sessions.”

“It was really more like two,” Wonwoo corrects you, then his eyes find your friend. “She did all the work, believe me.”

“Yeah, after I read your notes on the book,” you grin. “He’s not even an English major, but he picks up more details in novels than I ever could.”

Wonwoo’s not used to compliments like this, especially not from pretty girls. Most just accept his work and figure their payment was a job well done enough. He doesn’t even know how to respond, and for a demon of his age, this sort of thing never happens.

You’re so pure and sweet- God, he likes you so much. But there’s something beneath the attraction, there’s a want- a want to corrupt you, a want to see how far you’ll go for him, how dirty you’ll be just for him. 

“Are you two coming to the party tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks, finding a way to divert the attention away from himself.

You and Yeji exchange a look, and it’s your friend who nods. “We’ll be there.” 

Nine:

You don’t go to frats often, but your attraction to Wonwoo drives you through the front doors of the packed house. Everyone is dressed accordingly, and you take a moment just to appreciate the ambiance. Sure, it’s sweaty, and overwhelming, and the flashing lights are a bit much, but it feels like a community, in some sort of odd way.

You’re heading through the crowd of bodies with Hwasa when someone grabs your arm, and you’re shocked to find Jeonghan standing there. He’s dressed as a zombie of some sort, and despite the fake grime on his face, he’s still very handsome.

“Hey, repeat offender,” he grins, leaning close so you can hear him over the loud music.

“Repeat offender?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re Wonwoo’s chick now, our little repeat offender.” He’s charming, in an interesting sort of way. “Bet you’re looking for him.”

“Is he around?”

“He’s the dickhead in the oni mask, making a drink in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.” 

You follow Jeonghan’s directions, approaching the kitchen. It’s as full of bodies as you’ve ever seen it, but despite that, finding Wonwoo is easy.

He’s tall, and even with his back to you, you’d recougnize his shoulders anywhere.

“So how are you doing this?” Hwasa asks.

“I’m just going to go talk to him.”

“Do you need backup?”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo again, and you find a smile appearing on your face. “Honestly, I think I’ll be alright.”

“If you need anything, just scream ‘hamburger’.”

“Why?”

“It’s my safe word,” Hwasa teases, flashing you a wink before she disappears into the crowd of people dancing.

You take a deep breath, mustering your courage to approach the hot nerd. 

You move toward him slowly, coming to a stop at his side. You don’t even have to say anything, he notices you immediately, turning to assess you.

His handsome face is covered with an oni mask, and it’s a little more frightening than you’d been anticipating, especially with his wild dark curls. Oni are Japanese demons, it has horns and fangs-

“Hi,” he says, and you can hardly hear him from under the mask.

“You’re really leaning into the whole demon thing, aren’t you?” you force a laugh. 

You hear Wonwoo chuckle, and then he’s pulling the oni mask off. “Are you more comfortable now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Actually, I think I’d also be more comfortable with a drink.”

“How much have you had already?”

“Just had a bit of a pre with Hwasa, why?”

“I guess…” he faces you, crossing his large arms over his broad chest, “when I make a move on you tonight, since our arrangement is done, I want to make sure you reciprocate, sound of mind.”

You look up at him in shock, unable to find any words with which to respond.

Wonwoo grins when you remain dumbfounded for a few seconds. “You’re cute.”

“I am?”

“More than you realize.”

“And you’re… you’re going to make a move on me?” 

“Was thinking about it.”

“What would the move look like?”

“Should I tell you? Or would you rather I show you?” 

God, why is he so hot? Why does he always know what to say? And why does his smirk look extra sexy with his slightly pointed canines? Why haven’t you realized his teeth were pointy before? You suppose he doesn’t smile enough for you to have picked up on details, but now, you’re looking at him, unhindered by shyness and limits of a tutor/semi-student relationship.

Wonwoo pulls you closer by your hips, staring down at you. “I’m going to need a verbal answer, Sweetheart.”

“Show me,” you tell him.

Wonwoo’s grin widens, and one of his hands moves from your hip to your cheek, cupping your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone, and it’s such a loving motion- it’s as if the entire frat party disappears around you. You’re so focused on him that you can hardly breathe.

Wonwoo moves closer, and you an feel his breath on your face. His lips are incredibly close, so close you could kiss him yourself- but you stay frozen, waiting on him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Wonwoo asks teasingly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and then, he presses his lips to your own, cradling you even closer with the hand on your cheek. His other palm finds the small of your back, tugging you to his chest. You find your grip going to his shoulders, exploring the muscles you’ve been thirsting over.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you open wider to accept him in, a small groan slipping out of you.

God, he’s such a good kisser- you’re completely lost in him.

In the periphery, music is thrumming through you, but it’s muffled, disappearing as you fall deeper under the spell of Wonwoo’s kiss.

Things are getting hot and heavy fast, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed that you’re making out with Wonwoo while surrounded by people, besides, something tells you they won’t care.

You can feel something on your lower abdomen, a pressure- and you realize that just kissing you has made Wonwoo hard in his jeans.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on that you can hardly breathe. You break the kiss, gasping. “Your room?”

“Not right now,” comes his immediate response.

“What?” You can’t help the way you feel crushed at the rejection-

“Not with the party,” Wonwoo clarifies. “I want to take my time with you, want you to be comfortable- having people fucking around outside my room while I’m exploring you isn’t my idea of a great first time.”

“That actually makes sense,” you concede.

“But… I’m okay to keep doing this,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then his mouth begins to move down to your throat, his tongue tasting your sweet spot. 

You release a moan, wrapping your arms around the tall nerd. “Yeah, we can keep doing this.”

Ten:

Wonwoo carefully walks to the kitchen, avoiding spilled liquor on the floor from the party the night before. He’s so focused on his footsteps that he almost doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s aura until he’s right next to him.

The frat boy is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating his cereal. “So…” Jeonghan muses with a grin, “that girl, huh?”

“What girl?” Wonwoo sighs.

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. “The one you were making out with at the party for hours. You know, the one that keeps coming here for ‘tutoring.’”

“I helped her with an essay.”

“Sure you did.” Jeonghan pushes off the kitchen counter. “It’s cute, our resident demon has a heart.”

Wonwoo freezes, realizing that Jeonghan might be onto something, but he’ll never admit it out loud. “No, I don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

Eleven:

“Well look who it is,” Jeonghan grins as he opens the door to the frat. You wonder why it’s always him, why no one else is ever hanging around the living room, but you decide it’s best not to dwell on it.

“Hi,” you smile softly.

“Guessing you know where to go,” Jeonghan muses, opening the door wider so you can enter.

With one more nod to the frat boy, you make your way to Wonwoo’s room.

You knock on the door, and like the very first time you’d been here, it swings open with ease. Wonwoo’s sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He’s wearing his glasses, and he looks so sexy like this, so domestic-

“Happy November,” Wonwoo says. 

You laugh. “Happy November.” You close the door behind yourself, standing there awkwardly. You know what you’re here for, know what you want from him now that your essay is complete- “You’re not practicing, you know, No Nut November, or anything, are you?”

Wonwoo laughs, setting his book down on his bedside table along with his glasses. “No, I’m not practicing No Nut November.”

“Good.”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Get over here.”

You make your way to the bed, sitting carefully next to him. “What were you reading?”

“Dante’s Inferno,” he responds casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be reading poetry from the thirteen hundreds. 

“Wow,” you laugh, “that definitely pushes the whole demon angle.”

“I’m a deal maker, Sweetheart, the whole demon thing is overdone.” He wraps his arm around you, prompting you to cuddle up to his chest.

“And yet, your door opens on its own,” you point out. 

“And?”

“As crazy as this sounds…” you take a deep breath, “I guess I’m wondering if there’s any… legitimacy to the whole demon thing.”

“How would you feel if there was?” he counters.

“I suppose I wouldn’t believe it, not really.”

“Then what’s the point in asking?”

“Maybe there’s no point.” You look up at him, marveling at his handsome features.

“So kiss me and forget about it,” he prompts, his fingers finding the bottom of your chin and making you look up at him. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile, closing the gap between your lips. 

He holds you tighter as your lips mesh, half pulling you onto his chest as his tongue explores your own. God, he still feels so good- part of you had wondered if you’d been a little tipsy the last time you kissed him, and that’s why it had felt so good- but no, this is just Wonwoo, this is just the power he has over you.

You adjust so you’re straddling him, his hands finding your hips to encourage you while you cup his face, enjoying the feeling.

You begin to wiggle, grinding down softly onto him. His cock is already hardening in his sweatpants- you love how easy it is to turn him on. It does wonders for your ego as you dry hump him, beginning to moan at the sensation on your clit.

You’re not usually this type of person, not the mega-sexual, but something about Wonwoo is making you feral. It helps that you both know why you’re here- helps that he’d rescheduled this fuck session so you wouldn’t be having your first time with a wild Halloween rager just outside his door.

Things are just comfortable with him, it’s clear you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and that turns you on even more.

One of his hands begins to glide up from your waist, skimming the underwire of your bra. You move his palm even further up, so he’s grasping your breast, and he squeezes deliciously, earning a soft moan from your lips.

Wonwoo grins into your kiss, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, forcing you even closer as he massages your chest.

You grind harder onto his cock, loving the feeling-

One flip has Wonwoo on top of you, and you whimper at the change in power dynamics. He moves his hips fluidly, applying more pressure to your already throbbing clit-

Wonwoo pulls away from your throat, looking down at you with dark eyes. “So do I need to grab a condom, Sweetheart?” 

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him. “Are you clean?”

“I’m clean, are you?”

“Yeah.” You lean closer, eagerly pressing your lips to his again. You’re so lost in him, nothing else matters.

Wonwoo’s hands begin to explore you again, and then he pulls away to tug on your shirt. “Off.”

You sit up, removing the fabric, exposing your bra to him.

Wonwoo looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “You’re so pretty, Sweetheart.” His fingers tease the strap of your bra. “How’d a pretty little thing like you ever find your way to me?”

“The essay-”

“You’re so innocent though, I could tell from the moment I met you. You wouldn’t have come to me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“No, I don’t cheat.”

“And you still don’t, you did the whole essay yourself.”

“With help from you,” you blush. 

“No, Sweetheart, it was all you.” Wonwoo kisses you again, shutting up any argument you have about using his notes. 

He makes you feel so good- it’s such a safe space, and it’s the type of situation you’re not used to. The lack of judgement, the complete support- it helps you relax, helps you get even further lost in his kiss as you make out, the both of you wriggling and grinding against each other. You love the feeling of his body, the feeling of being here with him, completely enraptured mind and soul.

Wonwoo’s lips trail down to your throat, and he begins to descend. He reaches your chest, and you breathe heavily, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips.

His fingers hook in the cup of your bra, and he pauses to look up at you, as if he’s asking for your permission. “Do it,” you tell him, trying to catch your breath.

Wonwoo grins, pulling your bra down so he can access your tits fully. His tongue flicks at your sensitive nipple, and you groan at the sensation, arching your back to push your chest closer to his face.

Wonwoo’s lips suction around the sensitive bud next, and God, it feels amazing. 

Your pussy is practically throbbing- can women cum from breast stimulus alone? You might find out if he keeps this up.

His hands cup your tits, pushing them together, and then he begins to lick at both of your nipples, switching from one to the other in a pace that has you grabbing his hair, whimpering in desperation.

You feel like you’re on fire- you feel alive, writhing on this hot nerd’s bed. It feels dirty, but it feels so right too.

He continues on your breasts for a short while, until you’re good and needy, then he makes his way to your jeans. 

“I want you naked,” he tells you.

“Then get me naked,” you counter, still breathless.

With a wink, Wonwoo pulls your jeans down, and you work on your bra. Soon, you’re completely naked from him, and unlike other times you’ve gotten with men, you don’t feel an ounce of shame. 

This feels so right, and as Wonwoo begins kissing up your thighs, prompting your legs open, you just know that sex is never going to be the same. 

Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours as he takes a lick of your pussy, and you both groan. His lips suction around your clit and your muscles spasm. He pulls away with a grin, breath hot on your aching core. “So wet already,” he muses.

“I need you,” you whimper.

“You have me,” he promises, diving back into your heat.

He doesn’t hold anything back. He eats you like you’re the most delicious fruit in the world, like your pussy juices are a nectar he needs for life itself.

You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you’re a little shocked at the speed of all of this, however, you suppose the foreplay had done a number on you as well.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, abdomen tensing.

“Cum for me,” he breathes heavily against your clit. “Want you to cum on my tongue.” 

His lips wrap around your clit again, and two more harsh sucks are all it takes to send you over the edge. You gasp desperately, entire body tensing before the moment of your release.

Hot waves of pleasure erupt over your form, all consuming. You can hardly breathe, can only gasp in ecstasy as he works you through your high.

You’re not sure how long your orgasm lasts, only that you’re out of breath and brain dead by the time Wonwoo pulls away.

You can hardly open your eyes to look up at him as he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are so full of lust- and for the first time, he looks truly demonic. But you’re not scared, you’re intrigued, in the best possible way.

“Fuck me,” you tell him quietly.

Wonwoo grins, and his canines flash in the light. “You got it, Sweetheart.”

He grabs the back of his shirt, tearing it off his head to reveal chiseled chest muscles. He’s got more of a sleeper build- the kind of guy you wouldn’t expect to be muscled, except that under layers of fabric, he’s actually sculpted by the Gods.

You can hardly breathe as he pulls his sweatpants down, and you’re practically drooling by the time he gets back on top of you, his lips hot against your own.

You cup the back of his neck, kissing him desperately, wiggling your hips, eager for stimulation.

Wonwoo concedes, rutting so his cock drags through your drenched pussy lips.

Neither of you say anything, you keep lip locked as he finally pushes into you. You both release gasps of pleasure, breathing the kiss to press your foreheads together as he sheaths further inside of you.

You open your eyes, looking up at Wonwoo, who meets your gaze with a fierceness that sets your insides on fire. 

He’s so beautiful- you’d checked his head for horns, but you can almost see an outline of demonic features- you must be dreaming, must be so lost in him that you’re seeing things. You close your eyes, drawing your lips to his again as he begins to fuck you.

Each thrust his hard, the tip of his long cock kissing your cervix. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but the feeling becomes pleasurable much too quickly. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, clawing at his broad shoulders.

“You feel so good,” he tells you.

“No, your cock feels good,” you correct him.

“Agree,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “to disagree.”

You laugh, and Wonwoo groans at the way your giggle makes your muscles clench even tighter around his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking a deep breath. 

He pulls away suddenly, and he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift you into the air. He positions your knees together, so you’re in doggy, and then he pushes himself back into your aching hole.

Shit- things feel even tighter in this positon, and you claw at his bed, burying your face in his duvet as he plows into you. His grip is rough on your hips, but you don’t even care- if Wonwoo continues to give you cock like this, he could do anything he wanted to you, any position, and you wouldn’t mind.

Each snap of his hips sends the sound of skin on skin through his room, but that’s the least of your worries. You’re more concerned about the fact that you can feel another orgasm bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, and your pussy is clenching even tighter around him now.

“You’re close again, aren’t you, Sweetheart?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh, so deep-” you whimper.

“Rub your clit for me,”  he instructs. “Wanna feel it.”

You adjust, bringing your fingers to your sensitive bud. You begin to stoke yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you crying out as he rails into you.

Wonwoo shifts, bringing one knee up so his foot is flat on the bed, giving himself better manueverabilty to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he groans, squeezing your hips. “Make me cum.”

The knowledge that your high will set off his own makes you even more eager to please him, and you rub your clit even harder, whimpering desperately. 

Wonwoo lets out a grunt, and the sound is music to your ears. How is he so sexy? When did a man grunting become sexy? 

Fuck, you work yourself even harder, and Wonwoo matches your enthusiasm with his thrusts, his hands pulling your hips back to meet him with each motion.

“I’m close-” you tell him, your pussy gripping him so hard-

“Let go for me,” he responds. “Need to feel it.”

A few more circular motions on your clit has you exploding, a loud whimper escaping your lips as your pussy clamps down hard on his cock. Your entire body is alight, muscles working overtime as you contract around him.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls, his pace faltering as he cums inside you, filling you with a warmth that makes you spasm beneath him. 

You continue to moan as he fucks you through your highs until you’re both breathless. You can feel him breathing on your back, can feel each puff-

Your own chest is heaving with effort, your eyes closed as the last inklings of euphoria sparkle through you.

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your hips gently, and neither of you have anything to say as you recuperate.

Finally, Wonwoo gently traces your spine with a finger. “I’m going to pull out,” he tells you. “Grab you a tissue.”

“Okay.” You nod against his bed, still too blurry from your orgasm to think too hard about anything.

The loss of his cock from your aching hole is one you feel everywhere, and you whimper, cupping your pussy to stop any cum from dripping onto his bed.

Wonwoo returns quickly, moving your hand so he can press tissue to your core. “Give it a sec, and when you’re ready we can put on some clothes and head to the bathroom.”

You stay on your knees for a few more seconds before mustering your energy. When you’re finally able to stand, Wonwoo helps you up. He pulls sweatpants up your legs, followed by a hoodie to cover your bare chest.

Then, he takes your hand, guiding you to the bathroom where you both clean up.

Everything is a blur until you get back to his bedroom, where you collapse onto the mattress against his chest, eyes closed.

Wonwoo’s hand smooths up and down your arm. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you respond.

“I’ve gotta tell you something.”

You can hear the seriousness in his tone, and you force your eyes open, looking up at him questioningly.

“I was going to wait-” Wonwoo admits, “it’s something I’ve never told anyone, not in so many words at least.” You wait for him to continue. “The whole demon thing… there’s some truth to it.”

“But… I checked for horns?” you say, confused.

“We don’t have horns, Sweetheart. We’re deal makers. You gave me your necklace, it has a soultie to your ex, one day, I’m going to drag that asshole to hell.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. “Sure you are, Wonwoo.”

“You don’t believe me,” he muses, lifting your hand so he can kiss your knuckles gently.

“I told you I wouldn’t, so what does it even matter?”

“I just wanted to start things right,” he confesses. “Wanted to do this right.” 

“This?” you counter, grinning up at him.

“Us. I want to give it a shot, if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested,” you admit. “But… I think, right now, I just need a little sleep.”

“Then sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and with a smile and a deep breath, you finding yourself drifting into the most blissful sleep of your life. Demon or not, Wonwoo makes you feel protected, and that’s not something you’ll ever take lightly.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love Wonwoo!

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🔮 preview. “You look so good like this, Sweetheart,” he whispers. “Being so good for me, so corruptible-” He has a bit of a corruption kink, but he’s never forced it on you. No, he’d shown you his toys, and allowed you to choose the pace on everything. You feel so comfortable with him, and it allows you to fully connect with yourself and your pleasure.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of sex toys, flogger, vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, breast worship, nipple clamps, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praise, soft dom Wonwoo, fingering, slight pain kink, etc…   I petnames. (hers) Sweetheart. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been a few months of dating Wonwoo, and you’ve realized the whole demon thing is completely real. It was an adjustment at first, but he’d explained everything about it. There are certain demons who do the darker stuff, but Wonwoo truly considers himself a deal maker above all else. He doesn’t kill, even though, with his power, he could.

No, he’s a mellow demon, if there is such a thing. 

It’s an opposites attract type of situation, and Wonwoo’s spent countless nights admiring your aura, discussing what it is exactly that makes you the light Yin to his dark Yang. He loves you for all of your differences, and you’ve never felt more comfortable with a person- or, should you say, demon.

He’s an ageless man with a thirst for knowledge, and you’re so attracted to his deep understanding of all things literate or scientific. You find yourself constantly learning new knowledge from him, and every day you spend together is a dream you never could have even wished for.

Aside from all the educational learning experiences you have with Wonwoo, you’ve also begun to explore his sexual knowledge, and it’s a journey you never thought you’d find yourself on.

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[pucksandpower]

Better Than Melatonin

Kinktober Day 1 → Cockwarming 💋 Toto Wolff

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The room is dark, lit only by the dim, golden glow from the bedside lamp. Toto sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as you toss and turn. The sheets tangle around your legs, and your face is scrunched up in frustration.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, his voice low, almost a rumble.

You freeze for a second, not expecting him to still be awake. “I’m fine,” you reply, though it’s clear that you’re anything but.

Toto raises an eyebrow, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve been moving around for the last hour. You’re not fine.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know … I just can’t seem to get comfortable.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, just continues to watch you, eyes narrowed as if he’s trying to figure something out. It’s unnerving, the way he studies you, as if you’re a puzzle he’s determined to solve. Finally, he speaks, his voice a deep, soothing timbre.

“Come here.”

You hesitate, unsure of what he’s planning. “Toto, I don’t-”

“Come here,” he repeats, more insistent this time. There’s a tone in his voice that makes it clear he’s not going to take no for an answer.

Reluctantly, you scoot closer to him, feeling the mattress dip under his weight. He’s so much larger than you, a wall of muscle and authority, and yet, there’s something undeniably comforting about his presence.

You rest your head on his chest, his steady heartbeat thrumming beneath your ear. For a moment, the world seems to settle, the chaos in your mind quieting down just a little.

But then you shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t feel so … awkward.

“You’re still tense,” he murmurs, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

You nod, biting your lip. “I guess … I guess I’m just not used to this.”

“This?” He prompts, his hand sliding up your side, his fingers trailing along your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

“Sharing a bed,” you admit, your voice barely more than a whisper. “With someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” He echoes, and there’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

You huff, frustrated by your own inability to explain. “You know what I mean. You’re … you’re Toto Wolff. And I’m just … me.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through your entire body. “You’re not just anything, Häschen.” His hand cups your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, intense, and for a moment, you feel like you’re drowning in them. “You’re mine.”

The words send a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and nerves. “Toto …”

“Shh,” he hushes you, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

You want to argue, to tell him that you’re fine, that you don’t need him to take care of you, but the words die on your tongue as he shifts, his body pressing you into the mattress. There’s no urgency in his movements, no rush, just a slow, deliberate claiming of space. His hands are everywhere, warm and sure, and before you know it, he’s positioned himself between your legs.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s doing. “Toto, wait, I-”

“Trust me,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He’s so close now, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

But you don’t want him to stop. You want this, want him, even though you’re still nervous, still unsure. There’s something about the way he touches you, the way he looks at you, that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

So you nod, giving him permission without words. He understands, of course he does, and slowly, carefully, he presses into you, filling you in a way that makes your mind go blissfully blank.

You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as he settles deep inside you. He’s so big, so overwhelming, but it’s not painful. It’s just … intense.

“Easy,” he soothes, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Breathe.”

You do as he says, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest, the steady rhythm of your breathing. He stays still, just holding you, filling you, and somehow, that’s enough to calm the frantic thoughts racing through your mind.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening in a way that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. “Better?”

You nod again, feeling a little dazed. “Yeah … better.”

“Good,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Now sleep.”

You blink up at him, confused. “Sleep? Like this?”

“Exactly like this,” he replies, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The idea of falling asleep like this, with him still inside you, is strange and yet … comforting. It’s as if he’s claiming you in a way that’s both physical and emotional, a silent promise that he’s not going to let you go.

“Okay,” you whisper, your body relaxing against him. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple.

You close your eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body surrounding you. Slowly, the tension drains from your muscles, your mind drifting into a pleasant haze. It’s strange, but for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel safe. Safe and … loved.

Toto doesn’t move, just holds you, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. You can feel him still inside you, a constant, grounding presence that lulls you into a sense of peace.

“Sleep, Häschen,” he whispers again, and this time, you don’t fight it.

You let yourself drift, the world fading away until there’s nothing left but the steady beat of his heart and the feeling of him, warm and solid, holding you close.

***

The soft, rhythmic click of the keyboard echoes through the dimly lit room. Toto’s office is a sanctuary of sleek modernity — glass, steel, and leather, with the subtle hum of computers creating a low, constant backdrop.

His eyes are glued to the screen, sharp and focused, his mind immersed in the layers of data that demand his attention. But despite the intensity of his work, he’s aware of the time — late, far too late for you to be awake.

And yet, there’s a soft creak of the door opening behind him, barely perceptible but enough to make him pause, his hands hovering over the keyboard. He glances up, his eyes narrowing as they adjust to the sight of you standing in the doorway, hesitant and small in the oversized t-shirt you’ve borrowed from him.

“Häschen?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an edge of concern. “What are you doing up?”

You shift on your feet, unsure how to explain. Your eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but there’s something else there too — a need, something unspoken but clear in the way you linger in the doorway. “I … I couldn’t sleep.”

Toto sighs, his expression softening as he leans back in his chair, taking in the sight of you. You look so vulnerable, standing there with your arms wrapped around yourself, as if you’re trying to ward off some unseen cold. He knows exactly why you can’t sleep — why you’ve been struggling on nights when he’s not in bed beside you.

“Come here,” he says, his tone a mixture of command and tenderness.

You hesitate, still unsure, but the pull is too strong. Slowly, you pad across the room, the cold hardwood floor making you shiver as you approach him.

Toto watches you carefully, his gaze never leaving yours as you finally reach his desk. He reaches out, taking your hand and pulling you closer until you’re standing between his legs, his warmth already seeping into you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble sleeping?” He asks, his voice low as his hand comes up to caress your cheek.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you murmur, your eyes downcast. “I know you’re busy.”

He frowns at that, his thumb brushing against your lower lip in a gesture that’s become all too familiar. “You’re never a bother to me, Häschen. You should know that by now.”

You nod, but it’s clear you’re still holding back, your body tense despite his reassuring words. “I just … I can’t sleep without you.”

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with the weight of your vulnerability. Toto’s eyes soften, a mix of pride and concern flashing through them as he pulls you closer, his hands firm on your hips. “You need me that much, hm?”

You bite your lip, embarrassed but unable to deny it. “I guess I do.”

His response is immediate. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly, turning you so that you’re perched on his lap, your legs straddling his hips.

You let out a small gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he settles you against him. The warmth of his body, the solid feel of him beneath you, it all works to ease some of the tension from your muscles, but it’s not enough.

Toto seems to understand, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, finding purchase on your bare skin. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push, just holds you there, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “Tell me what you need, Häschen.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. It’s a simple request, but it’s one that fills you with an odd mixture of longing and shame. “I need … I need you.”

His grip tightens ever so slightly, a reassuring pressure that grounds you. “I’m right here.”

“No,” you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need you … like before.”

Toto’s hands still on your back, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then, he shifts, his hand coming up to cup your chin, tilting your face so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You want me to fill you, Häschen? Is that what you need?”

There’s no judgment in his tone, only understanding and a deep, unyielding care that makes your heart ache. You nod, feeling a tear slip down your cheek, more out of relief than anything else.

“Then that’s what you’ll have,” he murmurs, wiping the tear away with his thumb before capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

He doesn’t rush, doesn’t demand. Everything he does is with a deliberate slowness, an assurance that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere. His hands slide down to your hips, lifting you just enough so that he can position himself against you. You feel the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, and there’s a moment of hesitation, a brief flash of nerves that makes you tense up.

“Shh, relax,” Toto soothes, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’ve got you, Häschen. Let me take care of you.”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax as he slowly lowers you onto him, filling you inch by inch until he’s buried deep inside. It’s a stretch, a fullness that’s overwhelming and yet, it’s exactly what you need. The tension that’s been keeping you awake, the restless energy that’s been gnawing at you, it all melts away the moment he’s inside you.

“There you go,” Toto whispers, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

You can only nod, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you cling to him, your body trembling with relief. He doesn’t move, doesn’t thrust or push, just holds you there, letting you get used to the feeling of being so completely filled by him.

Toto’s hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he rocks you gently in his lap. “You’re doing so well, Häschen. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body surrounding you. His hands are everywhere, holding you, grounding you, and it’s not long before you feel the exhaustion creeping back in, your body finally relaxing against him.

“That’s it,” Toto murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Just sleep, Häschen. I’ll be right here.”

You try to fight it, try to stay awake, but it’s a losing battle. The combination of his warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his breathing — it all works together to lull you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Toto doesn’t move, doesn’t shift even an inch as you drift off. He stays still, his hands keeping you anchored to him, his eyes softening as he watches you finally find the peace that had been eluding you all night.

The minutes tick by, the silence of the room only broken by the soft sounds of your breathing, the occasional rustle of the sheets as you shift in your sleep. Toto continues to work, his fingers moving deftly over the keyboard, but his focus is only half on the screen. The other half is on you — on the way your body relaxes completely against him, on the way your lips part slightly as you breathe, on the way you trust him so implicitly to take care of you.

It’s a feeling that stirs something deep inside him, something protective, something possessive. You’re his, in every way that matters, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe, that you’re happy, that you know you’re loved.

Time slips by unnoticed as Toto works, the hours stretching out as the night deepens. Every so often, he glances down at you, checking to make sure you’re still comfortable, still resting peacefully. Each time, he finds you just as he left you, your body still pressed close to his, your breathing even and calm.

It’s only when the first hints of dawn begin to creep through the windows, the sky lightening to a soft, pale blue, that Toto finally lets out a breath, his work done for the night. He looks down at you, still asleep in his lap, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, he shuts down his computer, the soft whir of the machines fading into silence. Then, with the same gentle care, he shifts you in his arms, lifting you as he stands, cradling you against his chest.

You stir slightly, a soft murmur escaping your lips, but you don’t wake, your head resting against his shoulder as he carries you out of the office and down the hallway to the bedroom. The bed is still unmade from earlier, the sheets a tangled mess, but Toto doesn’t care. All that matters is getting you settled, making sure you’re comfortable.

He lays you down carefully, his movements slow and deliberate as he pulls the covers over you. For a moment, he just stands there, watching you sleep, a strange sense of peace settling over him. You look so small, so fragile in the big bed, and yet, there’s a strength to you, a quiet resilience that he admires more than he can put into words.

Finally, he slips into bed beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close. You instinctively curl into him, seeking out his warmth even in sleep, and Toto can’t help but smile as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

As he settles beside you, he gently lifts your leg over his hip, positioning himself against your entrance. With a slow, careful motion, he slips back inside you, filling you completely once more.

You sigh in your sleep, a contented sound that melts into a soft moan, and your body instinctively curls closer to him, seeking his warmth and strength. Toto holds you there, his presence filling you completely, a sense of belonging settling over both of you. He strokes your back, soothing and slow, his own eyes growing heavy with sleep as the night finally gives way to dawn.

With you nestled in his arms, warm and secure, Toto allows himself to drift off, knowing that you're exactly where you belong — in his arms, perfectly content and loved.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #12

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"Everyone should be delighted to know me."

"Tick tock, the clock is ticking."

"What a fantastic idea!"

"Not going to destroy the world or anything."

"You're awful at solving riddles."

"That was a poor decision."

"Do you really think you can handle the truth?"

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Why did you lie to me?"

"This isn't the end, it's just the beginning."

"You promised you'd never leave."

"There's more to this story than you know."

"I'm not the hero you think I am."

"Sometimes, doing the right thing means making tough choices."

"If you walk away now, don't bother coming back."

"I've kept this secret for far too long."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"They'll never believe us, but we have to try."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"No one else knows, and it has to stay that way."

"Do you trust me?"

"We can't let them win."

"You have no idea what you're getting into."

"This changes everything."

"I thought I knew you."

"I've waited my whole life for this moment."

"You were the last person I expected to see."

"Why does it always have to be you?"

"We're running out of time."

"Do you think they suspect anything?"

"I've made up my mind."

"This isn't what I signed up for."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We can't afford any mistakes."

"You can't keep running away from your past."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"Sometimes, the hardest thing is to let go."

"You know this isn't right."

"What are you hiding from me?"

"We have to stick together."

"I'm not giving up on you."

"There's no turning back now."

"I never wanted any of this."

"What if we don't have a choice?"

"It's time to face the music."

"You have to trust your instincts."

"Everything we've worked for is at stake."

"I didn't expect you to understand."

"This is our only shot."

"I'm not interested anymore."

"You owe me an explanation."

"We can't do this alone."

"I thought you were on my side."

"This is bigger than both of us."

"What do you have to lose?"

"I can't pretend anymore."

"You're not as invisible as you think."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"You're the only one who can help."

"We need to be careful."

"Are you with me?"

"No, this is enough."

"I don't think I can do this."

"Ok, so sue me."

"What a fine young man."

"This isn't about you."

"I know what I have to do."

"We need to find a way out."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not as simple as it seems."

"I can't believe it's come to this."

"This isn't over yet."

"What's the plan?"

"Take me to court."

"There's no easy answer."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

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[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Family Friend

Prompt: Jack Hotchner is arrested for underage drinking and the first person he calls to bail him out, is you.

It was almost 2 in the morning when you received the call.

"Y/N?" You heard the familiar voice of Jack Hotchnner's voice speak. He sounded small and almost scared.

"Jack?" You sat up in bed, immediately awake. "Are you alright?"

"I did something stupid Y/N. My dad's gonna kill me."

His words were slightly slurred and slow, imitating that of someone who had been drinking a lot. A million scenarios went through your head as you sprang out from under the covers, rushing to put on a change of clothes, holding your cell between your shoulder and ear.

"What happened Jack? Where are you?"

"I'm in jail. They said I could call someone so I called you. I know my dad is out of the state on a case, please don't tell him," he pleaded.

"Honey, I have to, he's your father. But we can talk about it when I get there. What jail exactly are you at?"

Once you were decent, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

"Fairfax I think- Oh God, Y/N, I'm so stupid, I don't even know why I was there. I-

"Jack, sweetheart. Don't say anymore, I'm headed to you now alright? Just sit tight."

He sniffled and let out an intoxicated hiccup. "Ok."

Hanging up, you dialed Aaron's number and put it on speaker as you got into your SUV, driving in the direction of the jail. The call picked up on the third ring and Aaron's sleepy voice mirrored your concerned tone from earlier.

"Y/N? Everything alright?"

"Jack just called me. I guess he's been arrested in Alexandria. He's fine, he's safe, but he did sound like he had been drinking. I'm on my way to pick him up now."

"What? Did he tell you what happened?" You imagined that he was doing the same as you, getting out of bed and dressing to catch the soonest plane out.

"No, I didn't want him to tell me over the phone. I can call you back once I get there and talk with him, I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Thank you. I'm on my way as well." His voice was low and slightly gruff, telling you that he was pissed but trying to conceal it. You'd memorized all of his subtle tone and posture changes over the years of knowing him, having spent the better part of those years as one of his underlings before transferring units.

"Don't worry about it tonight Aaron, I've got it. You've got a case to solve."

Luckily, all of the lights were working in your favor as you had yet to hit a red, bringing you closer to Jack sooner.

"The team will be fine without me. I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning."

You knew there was no stopping him. He was as stubborn as a mule and you honestly couldn't blame him when it came to the fact that his son was just arrested for God knows what.

"And Y/N. Thank you. For being there."

You were glad he wasn't there to see the slight blush creeping into your face at his words as your voice spoke calmly, a strong opposite of what you were feeling.

"Of course Aaron. I'll always be there for you guys."

Your words lingered in the back of your mind after the both of you hung up, silently mocking your lovesick emotions. For years, the both of you had always kept your friendship that of which it was. A friendship, nothing more. As much as you may have wanted it to be something a little more...intimate. There were times you thought Aaron may have felt the same, by the way he looked at you just a second longer than necessary or how protective he'd get whenever he found out you were going out on a date. But he never voiced such sentiments to you, if he had any at all, causing you to bury your own.

It seemed to be the night that everyone was being arrested as you walked into the police station and towards the booking desk.

"I'm here for Jack Hotchner, he was brought in sometime tonight," you stated to the officer. She gave you a once over before typing into the computer, presumingly looking him up.

"Oh yeah. Looks like he was picked up from a neighborhood party for underage drinking. He's in the drunk tank. Hasn't stopped crying and telling everyone that his father is a FBI agent. That true?"

You sighed at the dramatics she described and sighed before answering. "Yes he is, and I'm Special Agent L/N, a family friend." You flashed your credentials, satisfying her interest and continuing on with the process of bail. 500 dollars later and a short phone call to Aaron to update him on everything, they delivered the still very drunk Jack Hotchner to you.

He practically ran into your arms, crying. "Y/N, I'm so sorry."

If you weren't such a sucker for the kid, you would've been giving him a very stern lecture on his reckless behavior. But you were a sucker and all you could do was hug him back tight and speak gently. "You're alright, I'm just glad you're safe. C'mon, let's get you home."

You thanked the cops and left the building, Jack following close behind obediently. Once the two of you were in the car and on your way back, you decided to have a few words.

"This can't happen again, Jack. You know that, right?"

He seemed to be fading in and out of sleep but was coherent enough to give you a nod of acknowledment.

"Just because you're not in jail anymore, doesn't mean there won't still be a punishment. You broke the law and your dad is not happy about that."

Suddenly at the mention of his father, his eyes sprung open in alarm.

"You told him?"

"Of course I told him Jack. He was planning on flying back the minute I told him the news but I managed to get him to at least wait until tomorrow so you can sleep off the alcohol and he can have some time to calm down. You're welcome."

He threw his head back, cringing his face, making you believe that he was gonna start crying again. "He's gonna kill me."

"Well I highly doubt that sweetheart but I'll be there just in case, to make sure the both of you stay calm, alright?"

He groaned in acceptance and you shook your head smiling at his childlike behavior.

- - - -

Using the spare key Aaron gifted to you a few months back, you helped Jack into his house and led him into his room. Flopping onto his bed and passing out almost immediately, you sighed before straightening him out and taking off his shoes, then covering him up with a blanket and turning out his light.

You knew he was fine to be in the house by himself, but still you stayed, taking minimal space on the massive sectional couch and covering yourself with a throw blanket, noticing how it smelt faintly of Aaron. It didn't take long for the sleep to find you.

- - - -

You woke up with a jolt as the sound of the front door closing echoed in the quiet house, sitting up and catching Aaron's eye. He seemed surprised to see you as he walked over to the dining room table and set his keys and briefcase down.

"Sorry I woke you. I didn't know you spent the night," he spoke softly, loosening his tie.

"Yeah, I didn't want to leave him here alone in the state he was in. He must've had a lot to drink."

A sigh escaped his lips while running a hand over his face, his expression looking tired and overworked. You could only imagine the stress he went through being a single father and Unit Chief as well as the toll it took on his mind and body. Getting up, you folded the throw blanket neatly and walked over into the kitchen, deciding to make the both of you a pot of coffee.

"I don't know why he's so out of control lately. Last week the school told me he's been skipping classes and receiving detention on a daily basis."

You figured Jack was still sound asleep considering that it was only 7 in the morning so there was no chance he'd hear the two of you talking.

"He's not out of control Aaron. He's just being a teenager. A teenager that lost his mother and barely sees his father, he's bound to act out a little."

You prepared the coffee, knowing exactly where everything was, having done these motions numerous times before. Some of your best memories with Aaron were ones where the two of you shared a pot in the late night and talked about anything and everything, just enjoying each others presence. You pushed away the momentary thought and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet.

"I just wish I knew what to do," he sighed. "He's getting more and more distant from me and I feel helpless about it."

You turned to face him, settling you hand on his arm, grabbing his attention. "Just be there for him. And tell him that. He'll come around eventually. He just needs to work through the emotions he's feeling."

He didn't answer but continued holding your gaze, a flicker of something behind his eyes that made you subconsciously hold your breath. "Thank you Y/N. For staying." His voice was soft- tentative almost. You watched his eyes glance down at your lips momentarily, the air now thick with tension. You stood there frozen as he took a small step forward, bringing his body closer to yours and his head tilting down to compensate the height difference.

"Aaron.." you whispered, his name almost spoken as a warning, worried that if he crossed whatever boundary there had been, he'd regret it and that would be the end of your friendship.

"Am I reading this wrong?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer. He didn't lean in any further though. Didn't make a move to kiss you but his close presence was plenty. You could smell the cologne he would wear every once in a while, making your head dizzy.

"I just don't want you to regret this later on," you admitted to him, fearing he's end up agreeing with you. Instead, to your surprise, he reached a hand out to hold your cheek in his hand, making your eyes flutter shut briefly.

"The only regret I have is not doing this sooner." He leaned in, capturing your lips in his which you were more than happy to reciprocate. The kiss was everything you had dreamt it be. He was gentle, loving almost, in the way his arm came around your waist and slowly pulled you in. There was no rush, it was just you and him in the quiet house, everything else forgotten about, including the teenager who had unknowingly left his room to walk right into the living room, seeing everything.

"It's about time," he interrupted, making you practically jump away from Aaron.

"Jack." Your response was breathless, Aaron succeeding in taking it away seconds before. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so early."

You turned to step away from Aaron, which he allowed, but still kept his hand resting on your waist, a small knowing smirk on his face.

"Just because you were right about this, doesn't mean you're off the hook," Aaron said, making Jack roll his eyes lightheartedly. You spun to Aaron with a look of shock.

"Have you two been conspiring about me?" You were surprised of course, but also flattered that Jack felt so comfortable with you to talk with his father about his romantic feelings towards you.

Aaron shrugged his shoulders in admission. "Maybe just a little bit," he said, the tiniest of a blush creeping up his neck. "I just wasn't expecting for it to happen this morning, especially after all the chaos."

"Which I'm totally sorry for, Y/N. Thanks for coming to get me," Jack added. You walked over and brought the boy in for a tight hug that he pretended to not enjoy but eventually gave up and hugged you back. "I'm just glad you're safe and hopefully learned a valuable lesson," you spoke, pulling him back and giving him a once over. "Also, how are you up at 7 in the morning? If I had as much to drink as you looked like you did, I'd be dead till at least noon."

He chuckled and ran a nervous hand through his hair, something you noticed Aaron also did on occasion. "This wasn't my first time, Y/N. I've been drunker."

You gasped and looked over at Aaron who could only shake his head in disapproval but ultimately already knowing about it.

You turned back to Jack. "Well this time, it won't be just your father in charge of punishment. I'm gonna have some say in it as well. I know Spencer has an upcoming lecture on the Theory of Relativity this week. I think it'd be very informational for you."

The horrid expression on his face was exactly what you were looking for. "What?! No! Please, not uncle Spence's lectures. I'll do community service, babysitting, anything but that," he pleaded to his father, who threw his hands up in surrender but didn't lose the amused smile.

"I think it's a great idea. Consider that the beginning of the punishment as well. Now go get showered and dressed, you're gonna come with me to run some errands."

Groaning in disapproval, he did as he said and walked off down the hall to his room. You felt the warmth of Aaron come up behind you and pull you in, resting his head on your shoulder, arms around your stomach. "Good idea on the punishment," he praised, kissing your cheek.

You chuckled while moving to face him, a look of jest in your eyes. "Oh, you're not in the clear either, mister. I think I deserve a proper date after the secret scheming you and Jack have been up to."

The gaze of tenderness and affection glimmered in his eyes gave you butterflies and the ultimate need to pull him in for another kiss. You honestly felt like you could kiss the man forever.

When you both pulled away, he spoke. "How about tonight? I'll pick you up from your place around 6? You could wear that dress you've been talking about wanting to wear."

A big smile appeared on your face at his words, excited for the evening. You stayed just a little longer, sharing a cup of coffee with Aaron, giving some drunk advice to Jack before you all parted your separate ways. Knowing you'd see the both of them so soon, filled your heart with joy and the smiled never faded the whole drive home.

[leonardcohenofficial]

on a separate but related note if you are invested in a politic that includes the right to full body autonomy i wholeheartedly believe you have to shift your viewpoint on behaviors that you view as morally wrong and/or harmful, such as drug use, addiction, eating disorders, self harm, etc. this requires a dialectical materialist unpacking of the structures that paint these behaviors as ones that are deviant and the ways in which institutions are justified in criminalizing these behaviors and further restricting people's freedoms. unpacking the ways in which capitalism also frames our understanding of what behaviors are "wrong" and what bodies are more likely to be criminalized and/or institutionalized is also necessary for this work to begin. this is an admittedly difficult conversation to have. how do we imagine a politic that defends those who engage in harmful behavior? one place to begin might be the concept of dignity of risk, which comes from disability studies and that posits that people should have the inherent right to self-determination and the choice to make decisions that may cause harm. people are going to do things with their bodies that you do not like and demonstrate behaviors that you view as disgusting and wrong. regardless of how or if they choose to stop engaging in this behavior, the model of harm reduction (which to be clear does not solves the vast range sociopolitical problems that often times prompt people to engage in these behaviors) without moralizing is, i'd argue, a much more radical and human/e approach to treating people with the inherent respect they deserve

[joelsrose]

Tangled in Paradise

my masterlist here!

Ahhhh here is chapter 1 of my new mini-series!! I am so freakin excited for you guys to read it, i've had so much fun writing it - to everyone waiting for my other stories thanks so much for being patient and i promise i will get to them! enjoy and let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in the next chapters xx

The marble counter was cool against under your skin, a welcome relief from the lingering heat of the day. You perched on the edge, scrolling through your phone with one hand, the other holding a burrito that was rapidly becoming your favorite part of the evening. Mimi, your cat, stretched luxuriously beside you, her fluffy tail flicking in idle disinterest as she basked in the low glow of the kitchen light.

Your thumb idly swiped up, Instagram reels flitting past like a mindless parade. A stupid AI-generated meme caught your attention—something ridiculous but hilarious enough to make you snort, burrito in hand.

The sound of a FaceTime notification cut through your laugh, your phone vibrating in your palm. The screen flashed with Maria’s name, her photo—a sunny candid of her grinning at a picnic—lighting up the display.

You swiped to answer.

Her face appeared, as vibrant and glowing as ever, framed by the golden light of her apartment. “Hey, girl!” she chirped, her voice carrying the kind of energy that made you suspicious.

“Hey, you,” you replied, taking a bite of your burrito mid-sentence. “Shouldn’t you be packing for your honeymoon in Hawaii or something?”

“It’s not a honeymoon,” Maria groaned, her eyes rolling so dramatically they could’ve done a full lap.

“Sure,” you drawled, giving her a knowing look. Maria and Tommy had been dating for a year and a half, and if anyone was going to get engaged in an annoyingly picture-perfect way, it was them. “But seriously,” you added, “don’t you leave in, like, two days?”

“Yeah, about that…” Her voice trailed off, her expression shifting to something between sheepish and conspiratorial.

You froze mid-chew. “Oh no. Are you guys okay? Don’t tell me you—”

“No!” she interrupted, waving her hands at the camera as if to swat the idea away. “God, you’re such a cynic.”

“Cynicism comes with being single,” you shot back, gesturing vaguely to your burrito.

She laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Okay, so here’s the thing,” she said, leaning closer to her screen. “I have… a situation.”

“Go on,” you said, intrigued now.

Her sigh was long and theatrical. “For some reason, I let Tommy book our trip.”

“And?” you prompted, taking another bite.

“And the idiot accidentally booked a couples package,” she said, dragging out the words like they physically pained her.

You blinked, unfazed. “I don’t get it. You guys are a couple.”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head so fast her hair whipped around her face. “He booked it for two couples. Four people.”

You nearly choked on your burrito, a laugh bursting from your chest. “Classic Tommy,” you said, grinning. “So? What’s the big deal? You’ve got a million couple friends. Pick one.”

“I’ve been asking around!” she huffed. “But everyone already has New Year’s plans, and the package is non-refundable.” She gave you a pointed look, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

“Oh no,” you said immediately, holding up a hand. “If this is going where I think it’s going—”

“Would you want to come?” she asked, her tone overly sweet. “You’re my best friend. You’re legally obligated to say yes.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “Maria, in case it wasn’t painfully obvious, I’m single.”

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s why Tommy was going to ask his brother Joel to come along. That makes four people. Problem solved.”

You paused, brow furrowing. “Joel, huh?”

Maria nodded eagerly.

You thought about it for a moment. Joel. You didn’t know much about him—just snippets from Maria here and there. He worked with Tommy in construction, lived in Texas. You didn't even know what he looked like.

“I don’t know…” you hedged.

“Oh, come on,” Maria whined. “You’re not doing anything for New Year’s, and you know it. You’re just gonna sit at home, watch Bridget Jones’s Diary, and drink cheap wine with Mimi like you do every year.”

You glanced at Mimi, who stretched lazily, her tail flicking as if to agree. Maria wasn’t wrong.

“Plus,” she continued, her grin widening, “once we get there, you guys can do whatever you want. Hawaii! Beaches, cocktails, hot guys—live your best life.”

You sighed, the temptation starting to outweigh your resistance. A free trip to Hawaii with your best friend? Sand, sun, and maybe a chance to flirt your way into a memorable New Year’s Eve?

“Prettyyyyy please?” Maria hummed, drawing out the word in a way that made you laugh despite yourself.

“Okay,” you said finally, shaking your head. “I’m in.”

Maria let out a squeal of victory, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re the best! I’ll text you the details. Pack something cute!”

As the call ended, you set your phone down and looked at Mimi, who yawned lazily in response.

“Well,” you said, leaning back on the counter. “Looks like we’re skipping Bridget Jones this year.”

Hawaii, you thought. The idea felt distant, unreal. But as you glanced at the empty corner of your apartment where your suitcase sat gathering dust, you had a feeling this trip might just change more than your New Year’s plans.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Hawaii was breathtaking. The kind of beauty that made you forget how much your neck hurt from the long flight or how unreasonably sweaty you felt in the tropical heat.

You leaned your head against the open window of the taxi, letting the warm wind tangle through your hair as you gazed out at the scenery. Endless shades of green blanketed the mountains in the distance, framed by the electric blue of the ocean stretching out to the horizon. Palm trees lined the road like an army of dancers frozen mid-sway, their fronds whispering in the breeze.

Maria sat beside you, her voice animated as she gave Tommy a play-by-play update on your whereabouts. “Yep, we’re just pulling in now,” she said, twisting her body slightly to look at the approaching hotel. “Alright, bye, love you!”

You turned to her, sticking a finger down your throat in mock disgust.

“Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

The taxi turned into a long driveway lined with torch-lit paths and vibrant hibiscus flowers in full bloom. As the hotel came into view, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning closer to the window.

It was like something out of a movie—a sprawling, open-air building with white stucco walls, wooden beams, and a terracotta-tiled roof. The entrance was framed by a massive archway, beyond which you could see a lush courtyard with fountains trickling water that sparkled in the sunlight.

A uniformed staff member waved the taxi forward, and your jaw nearly dropped as you took in the full view. The lobby was entirely open, its vaulted ceilings soaring toward the sky. Just beyond it, you could glimpse the infinity pool that seemed to spill directly into the ocean. The smell hit you next—salt air mixed with plumeria and something faintly sweet, like coconut.

“This is insane,” you said under your breath.

Maria beamed. “Right? This is so much better than the photos.”

The taxi slowed to a stop, and the driver hopped out to help you with your luggage. You tipped him generously and offered a polite “Mahalo,” feeling strangely self-conscious about whether you pronounced it right.

“Tommy already checked us in, so we can go straight to our room!” Maria practically bounced on her toes as she grabbed her carry-on. “Eeeeek, I’m so excited!”

“Me too,” you said with a grin, taking it all in. “And to think, you’ll be leaving here engaged.”

“Hey,” she said, giving you a mock glare. “Don’t jinx it.”

As you approached the entrance, a small group of staff members greeted you with warm smiles. A woman wearing a flowy dress in bright tropical prints stepped forward, holding a pair of leis made of fresh flowers. She draped one around Maria’s neck first, then yours, the cool petals brushing your collarbone as she said, “Aloha, and welcome.”

“Aloha,” you replied awkwardly, still feeling like an outsider in this slice of paradise.

Another staff member offered you both chilled glasses of pineapple juice, the condensation slicking your fingers. You took a sip and practically melted. It was fresh and sweet, with just the right amount of tartness.

“This is heaven,” Maria whispered as you followed the bellhop toward the elevator.

You couldn’t argue with her.

Everything about this place felt surreal—the golden light filtering through the palms, the faint hum of ukulele music from somewhere in the distance, and the soft roar of waves crashing against the shore. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow down, urging you to forget the rest of the world existed.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

“So,” Maria began, standing beside you in the elevator, glancing down at her phone. “Since it’s already…” she trailed off, squinting at the screen. “Five o’clock, how about we settle in, freshen up, and then have dinner around 6:30?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed, leaning back against the elevator wall, the faint scent of hibiscus and sea salt lingering in the air.

The elevator chimed softly, announcing your arrival at the designated floor.

You followed her as she led the way down the long, carpeted corridor, passing room numbers etched into sleek gold plaques.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, stopping in front of Room 712. “This is us.”

Us? you thought, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. But you let it slide, figuring she meant she and Tommy.

Maria slipped the key card into the slot with a practiced flourish, and the door opened with a soft click. You stepped in behind her, expecting a hotel room. Maybe a nice one—Maria had said Tommy splurged—but this wasn’t a room.

It was a suite.

No, not just a suite—a goddamn palace disguised as a hotel suite.

Your breath hitched as you took it all in. The entryway alone was larger than your living room back home, its polished marble floors gleaming under warm recessed lighting. Beyond it, the suite opened into an expansive living space with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed an unbroken view of the turquoise ocean. Sheer white curtains swayed gently in the breeze from the open balcony doors, where plush loungers and a private hot tub overlooked the horizon.

To your left, an oversized sectional couch sat in front of a sleek flat-screen TV, its armrest stacked with neatly folded, resort-branded towels. To your right, a dining table made of dark, glossy wood was set for four, complete with fresh flowers and an ice bucket chilling a bottle of champagne.

“Shit, Maria,” you breathed, turning to her with wide eyes. “This is insane.”

“I know!” she squealed, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like a kid at Christmas. “We’re gonna have the best time!”

You were about to ask where you’d be staying when a familiar voice cut through the moment.

“Hey, baby,” Tommy called, appearing from one of the adjacent rooms. He grinned as he walked over, pulling Maria into a hug and kissing her lightly on the lips. “I thought I heard you. How was the flight?”

“Good,” she replied, resting her head briefly against his shoulder before pulling back to gesture around the suite. “This is incredible, Tommy.”

“Yeah, guess I didn’t fuck up too bad, huh?” he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile softened.

Tommy’s gaze shifted to you, his grin widening. “Hey, darlin’. How’ve you been?”

You returned his smile as he pulled you into a friendly hug, the scent of sunscreen and a hint of aftershave clinging to him.

“Good, Tommy. You?”

“Better now that I’m in fucking Hawaii,” he said with a laugh, gesturing around dramatically.

You laughed, too, feeling some of the tension from the long day begin to melt away. Tommy had always been easy to like—funny, respectful, and completely devoted to Maria. He had that older brother vibe with you, always quick to check in and make you laugh when you needed it.

“So,” you said, glancing around. “Do I have a room key or something?”

Maria and Tommy exchanged a quick glance, his arm still draped casually around her shoulders.

“Oh,” Tommy said, scratching the back of his neck as he turned to Maria. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, the first twinges of unease creeping in.

Tommy gestured around the suite. “This is it. The suite. We’re all staying here. There are two big rooms—come on, I’ll show you!”

Before you could even react, Tommy had slipped his arm around yours, steering you further into the space like an overenthusiastic tour guide.

“Maria—” you started, but he was already pointing things out.

“Look at this place!” Tommy exclaimed, his voice brimming with the kind of excitement that made it hard to stay mad at him. He pointed at the sprawling living room like a proud real estate agent. “Big-ass TV, private balcony, minibar—it’s nuts. And wait ‘til you see the bedrooms. King-sized beds, the works.”

You shot a quick glance over your shoulder, catching Maria hovering by the door. She met your glare with a sheepish shrug, mouthing a silent sorry, her lips curving into an awkward half-smile.

Sorry? That was all she had to say?

Tommy was already leading you deeper into the suite, his arm draped comfortably around yours, blissfully unaware of the rising irritation simmering beneath your polite nods.

“Over here’s the kitchen,” Tommy said, gesturing to a sleek, open-concept area with dark wood cabinets, marble countertops, and stainless steel appliances that gleamed like they’d never been touched. “I mean, not that we’re cooking or anything, but still—pretty sweet, huh?”

You nodded absently, still reeling from the revelation that this wasn’t just their setup—it was your setup, too.

“And here,” Tommy said, stopping in front of a door, “is one of the bedrooms.” He swung it open with a flourish.

The room was absurdly gorgeous. A king-sized bed dominated the space, dressed in crisp white linens with a soft, seafoam-green throw draped across the foot. The headboard was made of rich, dark wood, its edges carved with delicate floral patterns that gave the room an understated elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened to a private balcony, where you could already hear the gentle crash of waves in the distance.

“Not bad, huh?” Tommy grinned, leaning against the doorframe.

“Not bad?” you echoed, unable to hide the hint of sarcasm in your tone. “Tommy, this is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously awesome,” he corrected, winking.

You let out a breath, forcing a smile as you turned back toward the living room. Maria was still hovering by the door, clearly trying to avoid eye contact.

“Maria,” you hissed, your voice low but sharp as you made your way over to her.

She plastered on an innocent smile. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” you whispered, glancing back to make sure Tommy wasn’t listening. “You didn’t think to mention we’re all staying in the same suite?”

She shrugged again, this time with exaggerated nonchalance. “I didn’t think it was a big deal! The place is huge. You’ll hardly even notice.”

“Hardly notice?” you repeated, your voice rising slightly before you caught yourself. You took a calming breath, lowering your tone again. “Maria, I thought I’d have my own room. My own space.”

“You do have your own space!” she insisted, gesturing toward the suite with a grin. “Look around—it’s basically a mansion. And Tommy said the other bedroom is just as nice as this one.”

“Maria,” you started, pinching the bridge of your nose.

She cut you off with a dramatic sigh, stepping closer to loop her arm through yours. “Look, I know this isn’t what you were expecting, but come on. It’s Hawaii. The suite is incredible. We’re gonna have an amazing time.”

“I didn’t realize me and Joel would be sharing a fucking room together!” you hissed, keeping your voice low but sharp.

Maria waved a dismissive hand, her expression almost too breezy. “It’s fine. Joel’s a gentleman. He’ll sleep on the couch or something.”

“Oh, so I’ll just be the bitch who forced a man to sleep on a couch during his vacation?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maria winced, but only slightly. “You’re being dramatic.”

You raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Am I?”

She stepped forward, placing her hands on your shoulders, her expression softening into the kind of pout that had gotten her out of trouble since you were in college. “Please,” she murmured, drawing out your name like a plea. “It’ll be fine. Joel’s easygoing. And think about it—how much time are you really gonna spend in the room? You’ll barely even notice.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off again. “Plus,” she added, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “I’m getting engaged this week. You can deal with this, right? For meee?”

Her eyes were wide and imploring, and despite every bone in your body wanting to say no, the guilt crept in like an uninvited guest. You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair.

She was right. You could deal with it. Worst-case scenario, you’d take the damn couch yourself. It was a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things… right?

“Okay,” you said finally, the word coming out like a reluctant exhale. “Okay. Yeah. Fine.”

Maria’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “You’re the best! I owe you one,” she said, pulling you into a quick, triumphant hug.

“Oh, you owe me big,” you muttered, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

She pulled back, grinning. “I promise, this is gonna be the best trip ever. You’ll see.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You stepped into the room you’d be sharing with Joel and let out a long sigh. It was gorgeous, of course, just like the rest of the suite—spacious, luxurious, and dripping with the kind of elegance that made you feel like an imposter just by being there.

The centerpiece was a king-sized bed that dominated the room, its crisp white linens layered with soft, seafoam-green pillows that practically begged you to sink into them.

A pair of matching nightstands flanked the bed, each topped with sleek glass lamps that cast a warm, inviting glow. Across from the bed, a low, polished dresser supported a large flat-screen TV, and the far wall was made entirely of glass, leading out to a private balcony. Through the sliding doors, you could see the ocean stretching endlessly, the sound of waves crashing faintly in the distance.

It was beautiful. It was serene. And it was yours… and Joel’s.

Sharing a room with a stranger wasn’t exactly how you imagined this trip starting, but it wasn’t like you could back out now.

You smoothed down your clothes and stepped out into the suite’s living room. The evening light poured through the massive windows, painting the space in shades of gold and orange. Maria and Tommy were curled up on the couch together, her head resting on his chest as they laughed softly at something he’d said.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you called, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Hey!” Maria greeted you with a bright smile, sitting up slightly while Tommy offered you a quick nod.

“So, uh…” you began, shifting awkwardly. “Is Joel—?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said, interrupting you as he sat up straighter. “The idiot missed his flight.” He shook his head, though there was no real malice in his voice, only amusement. “But he’ll be here soon.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding. “Okay. I think I’m gonna take a shower in the meantime.”

“Alright,” Maria replied, stretching her legs out across Tommy’s lap.

But just as you turned to head back to your room, Tommy’s voice stopped you.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his tone softening as you glanced back. “I think you two will really get along.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he continued, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “I know it’s a weird situation—sharing a room and all—but Joel’s… he’s a good guy.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond but unable to stop the flicker of curiosity sparking in your chest.

“Well,” you said finally, “I guess we’ll see.”

Tommy grinned, leaning back into the couch as Maria nestled closer to him.

You turned and headed for your room, the sound of waves and the low murmur of their voices fading behind you. As you closed the door, you couldn’t help but glance at the bed again. Sharing a room might be awkward, sure—but it might also be the most interesting part of this trip.

And something told you that Joel Miller wasn’t the kind of man you could easily forget.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The shower was as luxurious as the rest of the suite, a spa-like haven of sleek stone tiles in earthy tones that stretched from floor to ceiling. The water cascaded from a wide, rain-style showerhead above, warm and steady, like a soothing tropical downpour.

Built-in shelves held miniature bottles of fragrant shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, each scented faintly of coconut and vanilla. Soft recessed lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, and a small, fog-free mirror was cleverly positioned above a polished stainless-steel bench.

You hummed softly, the sound mingling with the rhythmic patter of water as you worked shampoo through your hair. The gentle steam wrapped around you like a cocoon, loosening the knots in your muscles and leaving your skin dewy and warm.

This was paradise, you thought, your hands scrubbing at your scalp. For the first time in months—years, maybe—you felt truly relaxed. No deadlines, no responsibilities, just the soothing rush of water and the faint scent of the ocean wafting through the cracked bathroom window.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice rang out from the living room, muffled by the sound of the shower.

You turned the water pressure down just enough to hear her better. “Yeah?”

“Tommy and I are gonna head out and grab a coffee. Do you want anything?”

“Ooh! An iced vanilla latte please!” you shouted back, your voice echoing slightly off the tiled walls.

“Got it!” she called. “We’ll lock up behind us.”

“Okay!” you yelled, adjusting the temperature slightly.

A soft click of the door signaled their departure, the quiet settling over the suite like a warm blanket. You were alone now, the world outside reduced to the distant hum of waves and the steady rhythm of water hitting the tiles.

You sighed, working conditioner through the ends of your hair, letting the tension in your shoulders melt away. This was perfect. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this kind of peace—a moment entirely yours, untouched by worry or distraction.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The bathroom was warm and hazy with steam, the scent of coconut and vanilla lingering in the air as you wrapped a fluffy white towel around yourself. Your hair dripped in lazy rivulets down your back, and you ran a hand through it, reveling in the feeling of complete relaxation. This was bliss.

You barely registered the muffled sound of the suite door opening, or the faint, low rumble of a man’s voice calling, “Tommy?” from the living room. Even if you had, it would have been drowned out by your impassioned rendition of Smooth Operator, your voice echoing off the bathroom tiles as you gave yourself over to the moment.

Joel Miller—unknowingly your temporary roommate—entered the shared room with his eyes glued to his phone, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance. His thumb scrolled idly as he typed out a text to Tommy, Where the hell are you? He muttered something to himself under his breath, the deep, low timbre of his voice carrying a faint Texas drawl.

Completely oblivious, he walked toward the bed, not noticing the neatly folded pile of your clothes sitting on top of it, or your travel bag perched on the dresser. His focus was laser-sharp on the glowing screen in his hand, his frustration apparent in the slight clench of his jaw and the furrow of his dark brows.

You didn’t hear him.

He didn’t see you.

Not until you pushed the bathroom door open, a plume of steam rolling out ahead of you as you stepped into the main room.

And there he was.

Standing by the bed, his broad shoulders filling the space as effortlessly as the sunlight spilling in from the balcony. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his scruff-lined jaw shifted as he frowned down at his phone. He was gorgeous.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

Joel, still engrossed in whatever was on his screen, didn’t notice you at first. Then, slowly, his head lifted—like he sensed your presence—and his eyes landed on you.

The moment stretched, silent and charged.

And then you screamed.

Like, actually screamed.

Joel jumped, his phone nearly slipping from his hand as his wide eyes shot up to meet yours. “Jesus Christ!” he barked, his voice rough and sharp, like gravel. “What the hell—”

“What the hell?” you shrieked back, clutching your towel tighter as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

Joel held up his hands, palms out in a gesture of surrender, his phone dangling precariously between his fingers. “Hey, easy! I—” His words faltered as his gaze flickered—briefly, too briefly—to the towel clinging to your body before snapping back to your face. His cheeks flushed slightly, though his tone remained gruff. “I didn’t know you were… here.”

“You didn’t know?” you sputtered, taking a defensive step back toward the bathroom door. “What are you even doing in my room?”

Joel frowned, gesturing vaguely at the space around him. “Your room? Pretty sure this is my room too.”

Your jaw dropped, words failing you for a moment as your mind scrambled to process the situation. “You—you’re Joel?”

His brow lifted slightly, his mouth twitching into what might have been a smirk if the situation weren’t so absurd. “That’d be me,” he said, his voice dipping lower.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your damp face. “Of course. Of course this is how I meet you.”

Joel crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the bed as he regarded you with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Look, didn’t mean to scare you, alright? Figured this room was empty when I didn’t see Tommy’s stuff.”

“Well, it’s not empty,” you shot back, your cheeks burning. “Clearly.”

“Yeah, I got that now,” he said dryly, his lips quirking into something dangerously close to a smile. His gaze flickered briefly to the bathroom door, then back to you, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “You, uh… wanna put on some clothes before we keep yellin’ at each other?”

Your face burned, heat flooding your cheeks as the reality of the situation hit you. You were still standing there, dripping wet and wrapped in nothing but a towel, completely exposed in every possible way.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, tightening your grip on the towel.

His eyebrows shot up, and damn it, he looked smug about it. That stupid little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that only made him seem more amused.

Before you could say anything else—or throw something at him—Tommy burst into the room, Maria trailing close behind, both of them wide-eyed and holding coffee cups.

“Hey!” Tommy shouted, his voice loud and panicked. “Are you alright? We heard screaming—”

He froze mid-sentence, his gaze bouncing between you, half-naked and flushed, and Joel, standing entirely too casually by the bed.

Maria’s hand flew to her mouth, barely stifling a laugh as she took in the scene, her eyes dancing with poorly concealed amusement.

“Maria!” you snapped, your voice a sharp plea as you clutched the towel tighter around you.

Tommy, meanwhile, didn’t miss a beat. He grinned, his worry evaporating in an instant as he stepped toward Joel. “Hey, big bro,” he said, pulling Joel into a quick hug, completely unfazed by the tension in the room.

“Hey,” Joel replied, his voice smooth and easy, like this whole situation wasn’t absolutely mortifying.

“How was your flight?” Tommy asked, stepping back as if this were the most normal reunion in the world.

“Good,” Joel said, shrugging as he turned to Maria. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his tone softening just slightly. “Hey, Maria.”

You stood there, utterly stunned, your mouth slightly open as the three of them exchanged greetings like you weren’t standing there, soaking wet and humiliated in the middle of the room. It was laughable. It was absurd.

Maria caught your desperate look and cleared her throat, nudging Tommy. “We should, uh…”

“Right,” Tommy agreed, glancing at the coffees in his hands. “We should get outta your hair.”

Joel, however, didn’t move right away. His gaze flicked back to you, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes dragging over you in a way that felt both infuriating and electric. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening.

“See you soon, roomie,” he drawled, the emphasis on the word sending a jolt of annoyance through you. He finished with a wink that made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t care to analyze.

You barely managed to hold back a growl as he turned and followed Tommy and Maria out of the room, their laughter trailing behind them. The door clicked shut, leaving you standing there, still clutching your towel and feeling like the universe’s favorite punchline.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself, glaring at the door. “This is just great.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, staring at the crisp white linens like they might hold the answer to your predicament. For thirty long minutes, you debated your options, none of which seemed remotely appealing.

Option one: walk out there and pretend like nothing happened, even though Joel’s smug face was now burned into your memory. Option two: stay in this room for the rest of the vacation, surviving on room service and spite. Option three: book a flight home and disappear into the dead of night, leaving Maria to deal with the fallout of her matchmaking debacle.

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands.

Your phone buzzed, the soft ding breaking the silence. You picked it up, already bracing yourself.

Maria: You gonna come out or stay in there forever?

You sighed heavily, typing back a quick response. You: Maria, this is so embarrassing.

Her reply came almost immediately. Maria: It’s not. Can Joel come and get settled? The poor guy.

Poor guy? Was she kidding? Poor you!

You sighed again, the sound loud and dramatic even to your own ears. Fine. If Joel needed to get into the room so badly, you weren’t going to be the one standing in his way. You: Yes. He can.

Maria’s response came with an infuriating kissy-face emoji that made you want to hurl your phone across the room.

A sharp knock on the door startled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

And then the knock came again. And again. And again.

You rolled your eyes, standing up and calling out, “Yes?”

“Hey, it’s Joel,” his voice came from the other side of the door, deep and slightly muffled. He kept knocking.

Still knocking.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you shouted, exasperated.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Are you clothed?”

You threw your hands in the air, your irritation bubbling over. “Jesus Christ!”

He laughed softly through the door, the sound aggravatingly charming.

You stormed to the door and yanked it open, ready to let him have it—but the words caught in your throat when you saw him. Joel stood there, hand still raised mid-knock, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was leaning slightly against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space effortlessly, and the playful glint in his eyes told you he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Just makin’ sure,” Joel said, his tone easy as his gaze flicked over you, his eyes pausing briefly on your flushed cheeks before settling on yours. There was a teasing glint in his expression, the kind that made your pulse do a little stumble.

You stood there, arms crossed, doing your best to meet his gaze without faltering.

He tilted his head slightly, his brow lifting as he watched you.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharp, defensive.

“You’re, uh…” he gestured toward the doorframe with a small tilt of his chin, “kinda in the way.”

“Oh.” You blinked, flustered, before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Joel stepped past you, his eyes scanning the room with a low whistle. “This place is insane,” he said, his voice warm with genuine awe. “Fuckin’ worlds away from Texas.”

You almost smiled, thankful he didn’t make the whole towel incident more awkward than it already was.

He turned to you then, leaning casually against the edge of the dresser, his arms crossing over his chest. “So,” he began, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to playful. “I see you claimed the right side of the bed.”

“Is that a problem?” you shot back, mirroring his crossed arms with your own.

“Nah.” Joel shook his head, his lips quirking into that same infuriating smirk. “I should be closest to the door anyway.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“In case a murderer comes in,” he said simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What the hell?” you asked, staring at him.

“What?” He gave you a look, like you were the one being unreasonable. “Us men gotta think about these things.”

You were about to reply—maybe point out how absurd he sounded—but the words died on your tongue as Joel casually reached behind his neck, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and shrugged it off in one smooth motion.

Your breath caught.

He stood there, completely unbothered, the golden light from the balcony casting shadows across the toned muscles of his chest. His skin was sun-kissed, his shoulders broad and strong, with a faint trail of dark hair running down his stomach. It was like something out of a magazine—effortless, masculine, and almost unbearably unfair.

You gulped, suddenly forgetting how words worked.

Joel caught your stare, his mouth twitching into that damn smirk again. “What’re you doin’?” you managed, your voice higher than you intended.

“What does it look like?” he replied, tossing his shirt onto the back of a chair like he owned the place. “Seriously, if you’re gonna freak out every time I take my shirt off, we’re gonna have a problem.”

You blinked at him, floundering for a response.

“We’re in Hawaii,” he added, gesturing vaguely toward the balcony as if to drive his point home.

“I know that,” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter, though the heat rushing to your face wasn’t helping your case.

Joel grinned, shaking his head as he grabbed a towel from the dresser. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said, his tone light, teasing, like this was all some game he was enjoying far too much.

You stood there for a moment after Joel disappeared into the bathroom, the faint click of the door echoing through the room. It was ridiculous how your heart was racing, how the heat lingering in your cheeks wouldn’t budge no matter how many deep breaths you took.

You shook your head, muttering to yourself as you crossed the room. “Unbelievable. Insufferable.” You tossed a glance at the bathroom door, half-expecting Joel to stick his head out and throw another one of those infuriating comments your way. But all you could hear was the sound of the shower turning on, the steady stream of water muffling whatever he might be saying to himself in there.

You tried to focus on something else, anything else. You unpacked a few things, neatly folding your clothes into the dresser drawers, your movements quick and sharp. But your mind refused to stay on task, wandering back to the way Joel had just… shrugged off his shirt like it was nothing. Like he didn’t notice—or care—how good he looked doing it.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you shoved the last of your shirts into the drawer. You’d met plenty of flirty guys before, but there was something about Joel—something about the way he seemed so at ease, so himself, that made him impossible to ignore.

The bathroom door opened, and Joel stepped out, a cloud of steam following him like it was part of his aura. He was shirtless, of course, a white towel slung casually around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends, darker now that it was wet, and he was rubbing the back of his neck as though he hadn’t just walked out looking like a whole damn Calvin Klein ad.

You froze, your hand still on the drawer handle, and for the briefest second, you considered looking away. But Joel caught your gaze before you could, his lips curving into that easy, teasing grin.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your unpacking,” he said, his tone warm and playful. “Figured you’d need the bathroom soon.”

“I—uh—yeah,” you stammered, mentally kicking yourself for how pathetic that sounded.

Joel’s grin widened, and he leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “Y’know,” he drawled, “you don’t have to look so nervous. I don’t bite.” He paused, tilting his head slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Unless you’re into that.”

Your mouth fell open, and you snapped it shut again almost immediately. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, pushing past him toward the bathroom.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson, its golden light filtering into your room through the slightly ajar door leading to the suite’s main balcony. From outside, you could hear Maria, Tommy, and Joel’s voices carrying on the ocean breeze—easy laughter and teasing banter.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, your back resting against the edge of the bed. The large mirror propped in front of you reflected your half-done makeup, the bronzer brush in your hand hovering mid-air as you muttered a curse under your breath. You were running late—distracted by the events of the afternoon.

Behind you, the bed was a mess of organized chaos: two dresses—one slinky and black, the other vibrant red—lay sprawled across the sheets, along with a carefully chosen collection of jewelry. Your music played softly from your phone on the floor, and you hummed along absentmindedly between swipes of blush.

What you didn’t notice was the sound of the balcony door sliding open, or the way Joel sauntered into the room like he had all the time in the world.

He wore a pale linen shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, paired with beige shorts that hung low on his hips. The soft golden light of the setting sun kissed his skin, highlighting the faint sheen of the humid evening air. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he’d just run his fingers through it, and he carried two beers in hand, the bottles clinking softly as he moved.

“Hey,” he said casually, his deep drawl breaking through your concentration as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed behind you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

You jumped slightly, your eyes darting to the mirror where you caught his reflection. Your gaze locked with his, and for a moment, the air in the room felt heavier, smaller. “Hey,” you replied, suddenly hyper-aware of the blush brush in your hand and the faint flush already spreading across your cheeks.

Joel leaned back slightly, one elbow propped on the mattress, his expression easy but his eyes sharp as he studied you. “Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he said with a faint grin, holding out one of the beers. “Beer?”

You shook your head quickly, turning back to the mirror and dabbing more blush onto your cheeks, as if that could somehow cool the warmth rising to your face. “Oh, no thank you. Can’t stand the taste of beer.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, twisting the cap off one of the bottles with practiced ease. “Can’t stand it?”

You laughed softly, glancing at him through the mirror. “Nope. I don’t get how anyone likes it.”

He chuckled, taking a swig before setting the untouched bottle on the nightstand. “Guess that means more for me.”

The silence between you settled, not awkward but charged, the kind of silence that felt heavy with words unspoken. Joel’s gaze drifted to the bed beside him, his fingers brushing over the fabric of the red dress before he glanced back at you.

“So,” he began, his tone teasing but gentle. “Which one are you plannin’ on?”

Your hand froze mid-swipe, and you turned to face him fully, your lips parting slightly. “I, uh…” You looked between him and the dresses, suddenly feeling shy under his steady gaze.

Joel tilted his head, his grin shifting into something softer, more crooked. “C’mon, roomie. You gotta pick. Red or black?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I was leaning toward the black one,” you admitted, though you weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to explain.

Joel nodded thoughtfully, his fingers brushing the fabric of the red dress again before he picked it up, holding it out as though inspecting it more closely. “Black’s classy. Safe,” he said slowly, his voice quieting. “But…” He paused, swallowing hard enough that you noticed. “I think red.” His usual confidence faltered for a fleeting moment, his gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to the dress. “Red would look, uh… really good.”

Something in his voice—almost awkward, but sincere—made your chest tighten. “Okay,” you said softly, turning back to the mirror before the moment stretched too long. “I’ll think about it.”

Joel nodded, setting the dress back down just as your timer went off on your phone. You swore softly, rushing to finish your blush. “Shit, I swear I’m almost done,” you said, glancing at Joel apologetically.

Joel stayed exactly where he was, his gaze still on you in the mirror, his voice warm and easy. “Hey,” he said. “Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”

You hesitated, meeting his eyes through the reflection. “You sure? I don’t want to hold everyone up.”

Joel shook his head, his grin softening. “We’re in Hawaii. Ain’t no rules about bein’ late here. Besides, worth the wait.”

Your chest tightened again, and this time, you couldn’t quite hide the faint smile pulling at your lips. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“No problem,” Joel replied, leaning back on his hands. “I’ll, uh, let you get ready.”

His gaze caught on something on the bed, and he reached out, picking up the delicate necklace you’d set aside. “Oh. Did you need help with this?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

“It’s really no problem,” Joel said, already standing and crouching down behind you.

The warmth of him was immediate, his presence so close that you swore you could feel the faint brush of his breath against your neck. “Here,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Hold still.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted your hair, exposing the back of your neck. Joel’s fingers were surprisingly gentle as he fastened the clasp, his touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

“There,” he said, his voice soft as his hands dropped back to his sides.

You turned slightly, catching his gaze in the mirror. His eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, neither of you said a word.

“Perfect,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thanks.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The hotel grounds were even more breathtaking at night. The warm glow of lanterns lined the stone pathways, their soft light spilling onto lush tropical plants and casting flickering shadows on the ground. The air was thick with the mingling scents of saltwater and frangipani, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore carried through the warm breeze.

Maria and Tommy walked ahead of you, their hands interlocked, their laughter soft and easy. Maria wore a flowing emerald-green dress that seemed to shimmer as she moved, her hair styled in loose waves that framed her glowing face. Tommy leaned toward her as she said something, his smile wide and unrestrained as he brushed a kiss against her temple. They looked like something out of a postcard—effortlessly in love and perfectly matched.

You and Joel followed behind, your steps falling into an unspoken rhythm. His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his shorts, the rolled sleeves of his linen shirt revealing the golden tan of his forearms. The easy sway of his stride gave him an air of confidence that felt completely natural, like he didn’t even realize the effect he had on people—or maybe he did, and just didn’t care.

As you passed beneath an arch of twinkling string lights, Joel glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching the light for a brief moment before his lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

“So,” he drawled, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You listened to me, huh?”

You glanced up at him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

He nodded subtly toward your dress, the red fabric clinging to your figure in all the right ways. “The red,” he said, his grin turning slightly crooked. “Told you it’d look good.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, the heat crawling up your neck despite the cool evening breeze. You glanced down at the dress, brushing invisible lint off the fabric as you tried to steady your voice. “Thanks,” you said lightly, tilting your head just enough to give him a sidelong glance. “Guess you’ll be my fashion advisor for the trip.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and rich, like a melody you didn’t realize you wanted to hear on repeat.

“Careful now,” he said, leaning closer as his voice dropped just a fraction. “You let me make too many decisions, and next thing you know, I’ll have you in cowboy boots and denim shorts.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

“Never say never, roomie,” he teased, his grin widening as his arm brushed yours for a fleeting moment.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence for a few beats, your steps in sync as you followed the soft glow of lanterns illuminating the path. Maria and Tommy’s laughter floated back to you from up ahead, their silhouettes framed by the soft flicker of string lights.

“So,” Joel said after a moment, leaning slightly toward you as though he were sharing some grand secret. “Tommy thinks Maria has no clue he’s gonna propose.”

You glanced up at him, your brow furrowing. “Seriously?”

Joel nodded, his grin growing more playful. “Yep. Poor guy’s convinced she hasn’t pieced it together.”

“She’s got a hunch,” you said knowingly, the corners of your mouth quirking into a small smile.

Joel let out a warm laugh, the sound easy and genuine. He leaned a little closer, his voice dipping just enough to feel more personal. “So,” he began casually, though the teasing edge in his tone gave him away, “you, uh… got a boyfriend or something?”

Your steps faltered slightly, and you turned to look at him fully, raising an eyebrow. “Joel,” you said, your voice dry but amused. “If I had a boyfriend, do you think I’d be here on a couples trip, with someone who is not my boyfriend?”

Joel blinked, his lips parting as he realized how ridiculous the question was. “Oh,” he said quickly, his grin softening into something sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you replied, brushing it off with a wave of your hand.

Joel’s smile returned, his gaze flicking over you with an almost curious warmth. “Just find it hard to believe,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, more sincere.

You blinked, caught slightly off guard by the shift in his tone. “Oh, come on,” you said, rolling your eyes to cover the sudden flutter in your chest. “Does that line usually work for you?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, his expression turning playfully indignant. “What line?”

“The cheesy pickup lines,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smirk.

“I’m being serious,” he said, his tone dipping into something earnest, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained.

“Mhm,” you replied, your voice laced with mock skepticism as you tilted your head at him.

Joel let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as though genuinely disappointed. “Wow. So cynical,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned slightly closer, the heat of his gaze brushing over you. “Bet you’re a real hit at parties.”

Before you could fire back a retort, Maria’s voice called out from ahead, cutting through the night air. “Guys, hurry up! We’re gonna miss the live music!”

Joel turned toward her voice, then glanced back at you with a grin that was all charm and mischief. “Better pick up the pace,” he said, his drawl warm and teasing. “Wouldn’t wanna get left behind and have to serenade you myself. Though, fair warnin’—my singin’ ain’t free.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you quickened your step. “Lucky for you, Joel, I’m not paying to hear whatever cowboy karaoke you’ve got up your sleeve.”

Joel chuckled, falling into stride beside you. “Careful,” he said, his voice low and playful. “Talk like that, and you’re gonna hurt my feelin’s.”

“Somehow, I think you’ll survive,” you replied with a grin, your heart skipping as his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

As the two of you caught up with Maria and Tommy, the warm glow of the hotel lights and the faint hum of music ahead set the perfect stage for the night—and for whatever this thing between you and Joel was slowly becoming.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

“Holy shit,” Tommy murmured as you all stepped into the restaurant.

And honestly, he wasn’t wrong.

The place was stunning, a picture of understated luxury that somehow felt warm and inviting rather than intimidating. The open-air design let in the salty breeze, while woven lanterns hung from high wooden beams, casting soft, flickering light across the room. The walls were draped with lush greenery, accented by vibrant tropical flowers that seemed too perfect to be real. Somewhere in the background, the faint hum of live music blended seamlessly with the rhythmic crash of waves.

“This place is insane,” Joel murmured beside you, his deep drawl laced with quiet awe as his gaze swept across the space.

You glanced at him, catching the way the soft lighting brushed over the angles of his face, highlighting the faint scruff along his jaw and the warm brown of his eyes. “Not bad, huh?” you said with a small smile, your voice teasing.

He nodded, his lips curving into a slight grin. “Guess Tommy finally got somethin’ right.”

A waiter appeared, all effortless poise as he greeted you with a warm smile. “Right this way,” he said, motioning for you to follow.

The four of you trailed him through the restaurant, past tables filled with couples leaning into quiet conversations and groups laughing over cocktails. The soft glow of candlelight flickered across polished wood and crisp white tablecloths, giving the whole place a dreamy, golden hue.

The waiter led you outside to a terrace overlooking the ocean, where more lanterns were strung across the open space, their warm light mingling with the silver glow of the moon reflecting off the water. The sound of the waves was louder here, blending with the distant strum of a ukulele from the live band.

Maria and Tommy slid into one side of the table, their fingers already interlocking as they settled in. Joel, without hesitation, pulled out a chair next to yours and gestured for you to sit.

“Ladies first,” he said, his grin softening into something almost gentlemanly.

You gave him a small nod, sinking into the seat. He followed, sitting beside you with the kind of ease that made it seem like he’d been doing this for years.

“Here are the menus,” the waiter said, placing them delicately in front of you. “And the drink menus.” He offered a quick, practiced smile. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

As soon as he disappeared, Tommy leaned forward, flipping open the drink menu with wide eyes. “This place has everything,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Maria laughed, resting her chin on her hand as she glanced at her boyfriend. “Don’t get too excited. You still have to pay for it.”

“Worth it,” Tommy replied, already scanning the cocktails.

Beside you, Joel leaned back in his chair, his arm resting casually along the back of yours. He opened his menu with one hand, but his attention wasn’t on it—it was on you.

“See anything you like?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.

You glanced at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “The menu just got here.”

“Not talkin’ about the menu,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening just enough to make your pulse skip.

“Jesus,” you murmured under your breath, shaking your head and focusing hard on the menu in front of you.

Joel laughed, the sound warm and rich, as he grabbed a menu for himself. “Relax,” he said, flipping lazily to the drinks page, his eyes scanning the options with a faint smirk.

After a moment, he leaned closer, angling the menu so you could see it too. His shoulder brushed yours, the warmth of his presence impossibly distracting. “Hey, look,” he said, pointing to a section of colorful, overly elaborate cocktails. “These all sound fancy. Perfect for you.”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the names—everything from Tropical Temptation to Hibiscus Bliss. “You think I’m a ‘fancy cocktail’ kind of person?”

Joel’s grin grew wider. “I dunno. Thought you might enjoy somethin’ a little sweeter. Balance out all that sass.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, Joel straightened in his seat, his gaze lighting up with a spark of mischief. “Hey, let’s play a game,” he said, turning to face you more fully.

You frowned, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. “What kind of game?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dipping low as though sharing a secret. “Simple. I choose your drink, you choose mine.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “How is that a game?”

Joel chuckled, resting his elbow on the back of your chair as he met your gaze head-on. “Because,” he said, his tone slow and deliberate, “it’s a test of trust.”

“Trust?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, completely unfazed by your skepticism. “Yep. You trust me not to order you somethin’ ridiculous, and I trust you not to screw me over with, I dunno…” He gestured toward the menu. “A Pink Flamingo Paradise or somethin’.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you, shaking your head. “You don’t strike me as a Pink Flamingo Paradise kind of guy.”

Joel smirked, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence. “I’d rock it, though.”

You snorted, your fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the menu as you debated. “Alright, fine,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But if you pick something gross, I’m holding it against you for the rest of the trip.”

“Fair,” he replied easily, his grin never wavering. “Same rules apply.”

You both turned back to your menus, scanning the options with newfound purpose.

Joel glanced at you, his tone teasing. “What’re you thinkin’? Something with an umbrella in it?”

“Maybe,” you shot back, smirking. “What about you? Something boring like beer?”

“Boring?” Joel placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense as he leaned back in his chair. “You wound me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, shaking your head as you glanced back at the menu. After a moment, you settled on a drink, pointing it out to the waiter with a confident nod. Joel followed suit, his choice quick and deliberate, though the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t about to let the game end there.

“All right,” Tommy said, leaning forward and slapping the table lightly. “We gotta get serious about this food situation. There’s too many damn things on this menu. What’s everyone thinkin’?”

Maria laughed, nudging his arm. “You’re acting like we’re solving world hunger, babe. Just pick something.”

Joel glanced at his brother with a faint smirk before turning his attention back to you. But this time, his playful demeanor softened, his gaze shifting to something quieter, more thoughtful.

“You got any dietary stuff I should know about?” Joel asked, his voice lower now, almost tender.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His tone was so different from the usual teasing lilt you’d come to expect—gentle, sincere, like he genuinely cared about the answer.

“Uh, no,” you said after a beat, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

Joel nodded, his expression relaxed but still warm. “Good to know,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned back to the menu.

You swallowed hard, the faint warmth of his attention leaving a subtle flutter in your chest.

“Okay,” Tommy said, clearly oblivious to the moment as he squinted at the menu. “What the hell is a coconut lime mahi-mahi? Am I supposed to know what mahi-mahi is?”

“It’s fish, Tommy,” Maria said with a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes fondly. “You’ve had it before. Remember that time we went to the seafood place in Austin?”

“Oh,” Tommy said, nodding. “Right. That was good.”

Joel chuckled, his voice breaking the small bubble of tension that had lingered between you. “Y’know, Maria,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair, “you’re gonna have your hands full with him.”

Maria grinned, clearly unfazed. “Already do.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

This was fun, you thought, glancing around the table as laughter spilled into the warm night air. The conversation flowed effortlessly, Maria and Tommy trading playful jabs while Joel chimed in with his dry, easy humor. For the first time in a while, you felt completely at ease, the tension of earlier moments melting into the atmosphere of good company and golden light.

The food arrived before you even realized how much time had passed, the waiter placing each dish with practiced elegance.

Tommy, true to form, had ordered something hearty—a perfectly seared steak topped with garlic butter, its aroma rich and mouthwatering. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing it like it was the centerpiece of a grand feast. “Now this,” he declared, picking up his knife and fork, “is what I’m talkin’ about.”

Maria, ever the balance to his bold choices, had gone for a delicate seafood linguine, the pasta glistening with olive oil and white wine, studded with shrimp and fresh herbs. “You’d better share,” Tommy teased, eyeing her plate, but Maria only swatted his hand away with a laugh.

You had chosen a grilled snapper, its crispy skin drizzled with a tangy mango salsa and paired with a vibrant side of coconut rice. The bright colors and tropical flavors made your plate look like something straight out of a magazine.

Joel’s choice was classic and unfussy—a plate of barbecued ribs slathered in smoky sauce, with a side of roasted potatoes and charred corn on the cob.

He caught your gaze as he picked up a rib, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What?” he asked innocently, though his smirk betrayed him. “You were gonna judge me no matter what I got.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I wasn’t judging. Just… admiring your commitment to the messiest thing on the menu.”

“Gotta live a little,” Joel replied, his tone light but his gaze lingering just long enough to make your heart skip.

The laughter continued as everyone dug in, the clinking of silverware and the hum of the nearby live music weaving seamlessly into the scene. Soon after, the waiter returned, a tray balanced expertly in his hands.

“For the lady,” he said with a polite smile, setting a vibrant, colorful cocktail in front of you. It was topped with a slice of fresh pineapple and a tiny pink umbrella, the drink itself a swirl of coral and gold hues.

Your jaw dropped slightly as you stared at it. “Oh my god,” you said, biting back a laugh. “What is this?”

Joel leaned in, his grin widening as he inspected the drink. “That,” he said, his voice full of mock-seriousness, “is a Sunset Paradise.”

You shot him a look, your lips twitching as you tried to hold back your laughter. “Are you kidding me? You picked this?”

“Hey, I thought it suited you,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes dancing with mischief. “Sweet, colorful… a little over the top.”

You shook your head, picking up the glass and taking a small sip. The flavors burst on your tongue—pineapple, passionfruit, a hint of coconut rum. Damn it. It was actually good.

“Alright,” you admitted reluctantly. “Not bad, Miller. Not bad.”

Joel’s grin only widened.

“And for the gentleman,” the waiter continued, placing Joel’s drink in front of him with a subtle flourish.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you as you stared at the delicate martini glass, filled with a pale pink liquid and garnished with a single orchid flower floating on top. “Oh, this is perfect,” you said, barely able to contain yourself. “Joel Miller, enjoying a Hibiscus Bliss.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at you, his lips twitching as though he was fighting a laugh of his own. “You’re enjoyin’ this way too much,” he muttered, picking up the glass with exaggerated care.

“Go on,” you teased, leaning forward on your elbows. “Take a sip. Let me see you savor that hibiscus.”

Joel held your gaze, his grin slowly breaking through as he raised the glass to his lips. He took a slow, deliberate sip, setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” he said, his tone deadpan. “Real sophisticated.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. “I can’t believe you’re pulling this off.”

“Darlin’,” Joel said, his grin turning cocky as he leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “I could pull off anything.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The four of you sat back in your chairs, the plates cleared and glasses now reduced to condensation-rimmed remnants of colorful cocktails and beer. The warm buzz of good food and drinks settled over the group, and you realized with a start just how comfortable you felt.

Somehow, throughout the course of dinner, you and Joel had drifted closer. His arm rested casually along the back of your chair, and though he wasn’t quite touching you, you could feel the faint pull of his presence—the warmth radiating from him like he was the sun itself.

“Alright,” Joel said, his voice soft and low as he turned to you, his grin creeping in at the edges. “Now you gotta rate the drink I picked for you. Outta ten.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think, though the teasing glint in your eye gave you away. “Hmmm…” you hummed, dragging it out just to watch his brow twitch in anticipation. “I’ll give you a… seven.”

Joel leaned back, letting out a low hum of approval. “Seven, huh? Above average. I’ll take it.”

You smirked, leaning slightly toward him. “And now you?”

He glanced at the remnants of his Hibiscus Bliss, the delicate pink drink looking comically out of place in his hand, then back at you with an exaggerated frown. “Five.”

Your jaw dropped, and you straightened in mock offense. “A five?”

Joel nodded, his lips curving into a crooked smile as he took another sip. “Yeah, and that’s me bein’ generous.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head, but you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out.

In front of you, Maria and Tommy were leaning into each other, their voices softer now, heads close as they shared a quick peck. Maria’s laughter was light and sweet, blending with the faint strum of live music in the distance. The two of them were completely in their own world, whispering and exchanging smiles like the honeymoon phase had never ended.

Joel’s voice cut through the moment, low and warm as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing your ear. “Let’s make a bet.”

You turned to him, your brows arching in curiosity. “I’m listening.”

He angled himself toward you, his grin widening just enough to make your heart do an annoying little flip. “Whoever’s right about when Tommy proposes gets to make the other person do whatever they want.”

Your brows furrowed as you studied him, skeptical. “That’s not fair,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s your brother. He’s probably told you everything he’s planned.”

Joel raised a hand, his expression softening into something almost boyish. “Swear to God, he hasn’t said a thing. I got no clue when he’s gonna do it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, searching for any hint of deception, but Joel just held your gaze steadily, his grin turning a little smug, like he knew you were about to give in.

“So?” he prompted, his voice a touch lower now, coaxing. “You in?”

You hesitated, glancing back at Maria and Tommy. The way they were leaning into each other, so completely at ease, made you think it had to be soon. And honestly, the thought of beating Joel at his own game was too tempting to pass up.

“Alright,” you said finally, turning back to him. “I’m in.”

Joel’s grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair, his arm brushing yours ever so slightly as he settled into the space between you. “Good,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, roomie. I’ll go easy on you when I win.”

“You mean if you win,” you corrected, your voice sharp but playful.

Joel chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement as he raised his glass in a mock toast. “To fair play,” he said, his drawl warm and teasing.

You clinked your glass lightly against his, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. Whatever this was—this slow, teasing back-and-forth—it was addictive, pulling you in like a tide you didn’t want to fight.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

When you arrived back at the suite, the quiet hum of the evening enveloped the four of you. The buzz of laughter and conversation from dinner had given way to the heavy weight of exhaustion. Maria and Tommy murmured their goodnights as they veered off to their side of the suite, their soft laughter fading behind the sound of their door closing.

You and Joel walked to your side in silence, the tension between you as palpable as the warmth of the tropical night. You could feel his presence behind you, his steps slow and deliberate, and you swore you could feel his gaze burning into your back. You tried to ignore it, focusing on the cool tiles beneath your bare feet as you reached the bedroom door.

Inside, Joel moved toward the bed, dropping his phone onto his side with a casual thud before sprawling back against the pillows. His arm rested lazily above his head, the glow from his screen illuminating the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You grabbed your pajamas and headed toward the bathroom. The cool splash of water on your face was grounding as you scrubbed off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and slipped into something more comfortable. But even as you tried to settle your thoughts, you couldn’t shake the image of Joel, relaxed and at ease, sprawled out on the bed like he owned it.

When you emerged, Joel’s eyes flicked up from his phone immediately, locking on you like you’d just stepped into a spotlight. His gaze traveled over you briefly—too brief to feel invasive but long enough to send heat rushing up your neck.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended as you set your things on the dresser.

“Nothing,” he said easily, his lips curving into a faint smile as he stood, grabbing his own bundle of clothes. “Just didn’t realize bedtime was a fashion show.”

You shot him a glare, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Go brush your teeth, Joel.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, disappearing into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Christ,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand and taking a long sip.

You settled into bed, plugging your phone into the charger and pulling the covers up to your chest. The clock on the nightstand blinked 11:03, and the suite was quiet except for the faint sound of the ocean outside.

Just as you were starting to relax, the bathroom door swung open, and Joel strolled back into the room like it was nothing—barefoot, shirtless, and in a pair of low-slung pajama pants. His hair was damp, his skin still warm and golden from the day, and he was entirely, maddeningly unbothered as he crossed to his side of the bed.

Without a word, he threw himself onto the mattress, the springs creaking slightly under his weight as he flopped down with an exaggerated sigh.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, your voice sharp as you stared at him.

“What?” he asked innocently, propping himself up on one elbow to meet your gaze. “I live here too, roomie.”

You gestured vaguely toward him, your eyebrows lifting. “Could you maybe warn someone before… doing that?”

Joel tilted his head, clearly biting back a grin. “Doin’ what?”

You waved your hand in his direction, exasperated. “Showing up half-naked like some—some—”

“Some what?” he interrupted, his voice low and teasing as his grin finally broke free. “Greek god? Movie star? Go on, I’m listenin’.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the pillows. “You’re insufferable.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and warm as he turned his head to look at you, his grin teasing but his gaze soft. “And you,” he emphasized, his drawl stretching the words as though savoring them, “are too wound up.” He rested one arm behind his head, the picture of lazy confidence as he continued. “Good thing you’re on vacation, or you might just explode.”

You turned your head to glare at him, though the twitch of your lips betrayed you. “Gee, thanks, Joel.”

“Just statin’ facts,” he said easily, his smirk widening as he stretched out across the bed like he owned it. “Bet you’re one of those people who makes to-do lists for their time off.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I do not.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. So you didn’t already plan out tomorrow?”

You hesitated, pressing your lips together, and Joel laughed, the sound rumbling and warm.

“Knew it,” he said, his voice laced with triumph. “C’mon, roomie, you’re supposed to be relaxin’. Let me guess—early morning hike? Sunrise yoga?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the corner of the blanket and pulling it higher up your chest. “For your information, I was thinking about hitting the beach. Maybe snorkeling. Normal vacation stuff.”

He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over you briefly before meeting your eyes again. “So, what time we headin’ out?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Tomorrow,” Joel said, his voice casual but his grin edging toward mischievous. “You’re plannin’ it, right? Guess that makes me your plus one.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening slightly before you caught yourself. “You want to come with me?”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his tone turning mock-serious. “You expect me to leave you unsupervised in Hawaii? What if you trip over a rock or somethin’?”

You sighed, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. “Fine. But only if you promise not to complain the whole time.”

“Me? Complain?” Joel said, his brows lifting in mock offense. “Never.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him, but before you could retort, his gaze shifted, softening as it settled on you.

“Serious question,” he said, his voice dipping just enough to make your heart falter for a beat.

Your eyes snapped to his, the teasing grin on your face fading as your breath hitched slightly. “What?” you asked, wary of his tone.

Joel tilted his head, his expression unreadable for a moment before he said, deadpan, “Do you snore?”

Your heart stopped, then restarted with a kick of disbelief. “Joel.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, his brow furrowing like this was some grand existential question. “I can’t do snorin’. It’s a dealbreaker.”

You glared at him, though the faint blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I do not snore.”

“Good,” Joel said, nodding like he was checking something off a list. “Because sometimes… pretty girls do weird things in their sleep.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice sharp but your cheeks betraying you as they burned.

Joel grinned, his gaze lingering on your face a moment too long as your blush deepened. “Just sayin’,” he added with a soft chuckle, clearly enjoying himself.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your chest, but before you could respond, Joel’s expression shifted again—his grin fading into something gentler, more serious.

“Also,” he began, his voice quieter now, “if you want, I can, uh, sleep outside. On the couch.” He gestured vaguely toward the suite’s living area, his tone so casual it almost masked the sincerity in his words. “It’s no big deal. I know you weren’t expectin’ this whole… shared bed thing.”

The offer caught you off guard, the sweetness of it pulling you up short. Joel—so cheeky, so infuriatingly confident—was looking at you now with an openness that you hadn’t expected.

You breathed in slowly, your gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his. “No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Joel raised a brow, his lips curving faintly. “You sure?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “As long as you stay on your side of the bed.”

His grin widened, that playful spark returning to his eyes. “Good,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Because, truth is, I really didn’t wanna sleep on the couch. It looked lumpy.”

You laughed softly, your chest loosening as the tension faded. “Wow, such a gentleman.”

Joel leaned back against the pillows, his grin turning smug but somehow still boyish. “Told you. I’m full of surprises.”

You shook your head, a quiet laugh escaping you, though the warmth in your chest betrayed your amusement. Settling back onto your side of the bed, you pulled the blanket up to your shoulders, the faint scent of clean linen and something distinctly Joel filling the air.

The room was quiet now, the low hum of the ocean outside mingling with the soft creaks of the suite as it settled around you. Despite the space between you, the warmth of Joel’s presence lingered, stretching into the silence like something unspoken but understood.

“Night, Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft and a little shy as you closed your eyes.

There was a pause—a small, almost imperceptible beat—and then his voice came, low and warm, carrying the faintest trace of a smile. “Night, roomie’.”

CHAPTER 2 IS OUT HERE